Project Phoenix Season 2: The Devil's Work
by Jack Borroughs
Summary: As the world gears toward the third world war, there is another war, a cold war between a modern, corrupt and absolutey powerful League, and a cabal of criminals and spies lead by renegade former Leaguers called the opposition.
1. Introduction

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A Brief Summary to the events of Season 1.

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After it's formation in the late 19th century, the League was inducted into British Intelligence. A few years later, the League suffered major loses following the Martian invasion, when Skinner disappeared, Jekyll was killed in combat and Nemo left the league due to moral reasons.

The League continued, with the remaining members being joined by others and continuing operating for the crown. Both the League's numbers and scope of operations continued to grow, and it kept growing apart form MI6. Eventually, it was separated in 1944 under a directive from Winston Churchill. Two decades later, the League became separate from The British Government itself, as it became an Intelligence powerhouse notably flourishing during the cold war, with it's Headquarters in London, as well as seven main Branches, in Gotham City, New York City, Seoul, Cairo, Paris, Berlin and Caracas. As well as dozens of much smaller stations in most countries, not to mention research installations and secret prisons.

But as it so happens, power corrupts, and the more power and sway the League gained, the more self serving their goals turned and the more their methods veered morally. And so as we find ourselves in modern times, the League controls the world; it has squashed rebellions aimed to overthrow oppressive regimes, protected the corrupt and inflicted disease and suffering on mankind to attain more power through maintaining the status quo, holding mankind back and allow life of earth to remain mediocre.

But for every force, there is a counter-force, equal in power and opposite on the universal spectrum. And for the League with all its might and ruthlessness, there exists the opposition.

A coalition of like minded individuals bent on toppling the League, crippling it beyond restoration and relinquishing its tight grip of the human spirit, branded as terrorist by the League. Headed by four individuals the likes of whom the world has scarce known; Captain Nemo, still alive after a diabolical pact made early in the 20th century, one of the greatest mind in all three centuries he's lived during. Captain Barbossa; the world's last remaining old school pirate, who has lived, died and lived again, a man so wicked that hell itself has spat out. Captain Mason; the secret agent who knows about the world's secrets more than any man, who escaped from the prison thought to be insurmountable and survived what a dozen men half his age couldn't. Captain Raimus; courageous naval commander.

These four oversee a large number of Agents scattered around the world, monitoring the League and striking against them using guerilla warfare, Agents who are used to be spies, criminals, cutthroats, assassins and others.

But with all their resolve and determination, the opposition knows only little of **Project Phoenix**, the League's best kept secret, a Project so massive that it could mean the end of the world. And so, Captain Nemo hired two of the deadliest and most cunning people he could find to find the only man who can tell them what Phoenix really is.

But once he was found, the opposition was struck by the League, ostensibly in an operation orchestrated by Mina Jekyll herself, proving long standing suspicion of there being a traitor in their midst, wiping out entire cells of Agents as well as the League's intelligence gathering staff, perhaps crippling the opposition for good.

However, that remain to be seen as Nemo and the rest of the opposition are about to learn what **Phoenix** really is.

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**A Timeline to Events of Note

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**1558:** British Intelligence established by Sir Jack Wilton.

**1700s:** The Priests, a traveling troop of impoverished vampire highwaymen arrive in the Highlands of Scotland and start gathering land, wealth and power

**1780:** Judas Priest leaves the Highlands one day and never returns. He travels the world for the next 130 Years.

**1899:** The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is founded by Professor James Moriarty. It is all a ruse and he builds several copies of the Nautilus.

**1900:** The League is inducted into British Intelligence by Campion Bond. Their new M is Mycroft Holmes.

**1902:** Henry Jekyll and Mine Harker are married.

**1904:** Tom Sawyer and Mina Jekyll start having an illicit affair.

**1904:** The year of the Martian invasion. To thwart the advancing Martian forces, South London is bombarded by a Bio-weapon manufactured by Dr. Moreau, incurring the wrath of Captain Nemo who promptly resigns. Rodney Skinner disappears and is presumed dead and possibly a traitor. Jekyll and Hyde perish to prevent the Martians from crossing London Bridge.

**1905:** The 2nd Generation of the League is assembled, comprised of; Mina Jekyll, Tom Sawyer, Thomas Carnaki, Anthony John Raffles and Lady Orlando.

**1906:** Captain Nemo sells his soul to the Devil for a protracted lifespan.

**1912:** The Titanic's maiden voyage is met with disaster. Judas Priest, a passenger, is among the survivors and he arrives in New York. Priest would call the country home for the majority of the century to follow.

**1917: **The 2nd Generation League is disbanded and a 3rd is created. Mina Jekyll's identity is erased, though she continues to work for the League.

**1925:** Jenny Diver, a former prostitute and a maid in a sea-side hotel is whisked away by Hector Barbossa aboard his black freighter, the Black Pearl.

**1932:** Judas Priest has a liaison with Vivian Lee. He murders Vivian's husband Stagger when Stagger tried to kill them both.

**1933:** Lord Orlando and Mina Jekyll arrive in New York to help in forming an American secret service version of the League. The other members of this League are Lamont "The Shadow" Cranston, Capt. Joseph "Sky Captain" Sullivan, Dr. Clark "Doc" Savage Jr., Prof. Henry "Indiana" Jones Jr. and Agent Jimmy "Operator No. 5" Christopher.

**1937:** Both Captains Nemo and Hector Barbossa are hired to aid the British Government in the war effort. Nemo designs weapon and watercrafts, while Barbossa performs search and rescue missions, including being involved in _Operation Paperclip_.

**1943:** Judas Priest is press ganged by the **D**emon's **R**esearch **I**nitiative into performing a high-risk, top-secret mission for the US government; retrieving _the spear of destiny_ from the Nazi regime.

**1944:** Winston Churchill mandates the splitting of the League from MI-6. Establising The League as a separate Agency.

**1945:** Nemo is betrayed by the League. The Nautilus is destroyed. Nemo washes up on a deserted Island where he will remain alone for several years.

**1945:** The D.R.I. seconds Judas Priest to the army. He takes part in V-Day. WWII is won by the allies.

**1947:** Barbossa washes up on the same island as Nemo, after being targeted by the League for breaking orders. The pair start constructing a ship to escape their island from the wreckage of Barbossa's ship, the Black Pearl.

**1948:** Nemo and Barbossa arrive in Sumatra.

**1950s**: The D.R.I. seconds Priest to the army again. He fights in the Korean War, where he meets his son Frank, from Vivian Lee, for the very first time.

**1950s**: Nemo, Barbossa and a legion of Arab mages and European engineers set course to Mongolia where they salvage the Nautilus duplicates for their own use.

**Mid 1950s – mid 1960s:** The D.R.I. seconds Priest to the C.I.A.. Priest performs several secret missions in Soviet Russia. He works with Bond in one occasion, though both were using aliases at the time.

**1963:** United States President John Fitzgerald Kennedy is assassinated.

**1964: **The League severs all connections with the British Government, though maintains an alliance with British Intelligence. M's chief of staff; Bill Tanner acts as a liaison between the two Agencies.

**1965:** The American League is abolished. The remnants become the American branch of the League.

**1966:** Judas Priest enters semi-retirement to spend more time with his son Frank.

**1967: **Frank Lee dies in _Eternity, Minnesota_ in the arms of his father, Judas Priest. Priest comes out of semi-retirement and is sent to Vietnam. He deserts a while later and makes his way back to America.

**1969:** Bond is married but his wife dies on the day of their wedding. The tragedy takes a serious toll on him.

**1969:** The Woodstock celebration takes place. The event was actually a cover to a meeting of over a hundred of the world's Immortals. Among the attendees were Lady Orlando, the Vampire Spike, Judas Priest, the Kurgen, Cartaphilus the Wandering Jew and Ra's Al Ghul.

**1971:** Bond is recruited into the League by Gideon MacGuffin, a former classmate at Eton. They become friends. Gideon intends on including Bond in Phoenix, a League-backed project of his design.

**1988:** Bond and MacGuffin's relationship has deteriorated; Bond intends to hijack Project Phoenix. With Bond promoted to the position of Deputy Director, MacGuffin realises that his days are numbered. He flees to Florida where he fakes his death and has plastic surgery and disappears for the next 20.

**1993:** Bond is promoted to Director of the League, making him one of the most powerful men in the World.

**1998:** The valkyr drug appears in New York City.

**1999:** Mona Sax is taken under the wing of Nicole Horne who trains her to be an assassin. She paralyses a US Senator on her first assignment.

**2001:** Mona Sax is shot through the head while working for Nicole Horner, but survives.

**2004:** Mona falls into a comma following a New York mob war and is sent to Prison for life when she recovers.

**2007: September:** While in Jordan, Aladdin Sane breaks away from his cell and covertly starts to investigate Project Phoenix.

**November: **Nemo hires Judas Priest in a bar in Minnesota. They both liberate Mona from Prison.

**December: **Judas Priest and Mona Sax operate in Gotham to expose Josephine's identity, eventually learning it is that of Mina Harker.

**2008: March – April: **Mona Sax and Judas Priest track down Gideon MacGuffin to a prison in _Jabal Nafus, Qumar_, he is liberated by the Cairo cell. The League launches a surprise attack on the opposition, wiping out most of the intelligence wing as well as several cells.

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The surviving members of the opposition as well MacGuffin are currently en route to a secret location where all members of the opposition will meet for the first time ever.


	2. Cast of Characters

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Cast of Characters

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**THE LEAGUE OF EXTRAORDINARY GENTLEMEN**

**Sir James Bond (Codename Jabulon):** English, Mid-70s. The world's greatest spy. Due to his position as Director of the League he is arguably the most powerful man on earth. A compulsive womanizer, despite his advanced age he still attempts to commit various sexual escapades with much younger women, namely his employees.

**Emma Peel (Codename Nolubaj):** An old colleague of Bond, and according to Cate Archer the only female member of the League never to have slept with him. She is the League's Deputy Director.

**Wilhelmina 'Mina' Jekyll\Harker\Murray (Codename Josephine**): English, appears to be mid-30s though over 130. Was married to Henry Jekyll but had an affair with Tom Sawyer. Following Jekyll and Hyde's heroic death she continued working for the League, though she was reported to have disappeared around the First World War. It has transpired that she has continued working fir the League, becoming one of its top ranking officials, as she commands the Gotham City branch.

**Willem Robur (Codename Armand):** Fench industrialist, Descendant of Jean Robur. Commands the Paris Branch of the League.

**Felix Leiter (Codename Benjamin):** American from Texas, Mid-70s. One of Bond's oldest friends, a former Marine and CIA Agent. He commands the New York Branch of the League and has a prosthetic leg.

**Paik (Codename Unn):** South Korean, 60s. To the public he is a rich and ruthless captain of industry with criminal ties. He secretly commands the Seoul Branch of the League.

**Arcangel de Jesus Montoya (Codename Leo):** A south-American drug lord. He commands the Venezuelan Branch of the League.

**Peter Gruber (Codename Otto):** Father to Hans and Simon Gruber, notorious German terrorists. He commands the Berlin Branch of the League.

**Yusuf el-Kherish (Codename Nasir):** Grandson to Ali el-Kherish, who fought alongside Lawrence of Arabia in WWI. Commands the Cairo Branch of the League.

**Bill Tanner:** English, Deceased. Former Chief of staff to M, director of SIS. He also used to be the liaison between the League and SIS.

**Mandy Hughes:** American, Late 20s. Mina's personal assistant, daylight bodyguard and lover. She is also an undercover Agent, and is registered with many security Agencies as a terrorist mercenary.

**Michael Costas:** Greek, Mid to late 20s. A former Greek special forces soldier who serves as James Bond's bodyguard. His brother is George Costas, a member of the opposition.

**Harmony Kendall:** American, late 20s bur appears to be 18. A not particularly bright vampiress from south California. She used to work in the New York Branch of the League when she was plucked by James Bond to be his new secretary and - naturally - bedmate. Her true loyalty lies with the opposition, who had trained her and instructed her to infiltrate the League and get closer to Bond using her sex-appeal and very young appearance.

**Bret Vaughn:** American, early 30s. Felix Leiter's assistant. A very efficient aid.

**THE OPPOSITION**

**Dakkar (a.k.a. Captain Nemo):** He sold his soul to the devil early in the 20th century in exchange for health and prolonged life. He quit the League for moral reasons, though he joined them during WWII. He was betrayed and left to die on an uninhabited island. When he returned to civilization he started active opposition to the League. He captains the Yellow Submarine, one of the many Nautilus duplicated manufactured by Prof. Moriarty. He handles the Gotham City and Seoul cells of the opposition.

**Hector Barbossa:** English, appears to be early-60s though over 180. Pirate lord of the Caspian sea. He gained Immortality by bathing in the fountain of youth every few years. He worked for the League during and following WWII, and was declared a rogue Agent and hunted down after he refused transporting Nazi war criminals to the United Kingdom. His former ship, the Black Pearl was destroyed and he and the wreckage washed up in the same Island as Nemo. The two them made a ship out of the Pearl's remains and made it back to civilization. They next traveled to Mongolia where they salvaged two of Moriarty's Nautilus duplicates, before taking up active opposition to the League. Barbossa Captains the Black Pearl submarine and handles the Paris and Berlin cells of the opposition.

**John Patrick 'Jack' Mason:** English, Mid-70s. An SAS operative turned Agent of the League. He was caught by American authorities after he stole classified documents pertaining to top government secrets (including President Kennedy's assassination), and spent decades in American prisons after that, including Alcatraz, from which he has escaped once. After faking his death and gaining his freedom in 1999 he decided to join the opposition. He handles the New York cell of the opposition as well as oversees the Intelligence wing. He is proficient with the use of firearms and has formidable fighting skills.

**Marko Raimus:** Russian, late-70s. A former Captain in the soviet Navy. Raimus Captains the Red October, a stealth submarine and handles the Cairo and Caracas cells of the opposition.

**Mona Sax (a.k.a. Lisa Smith):** Irish-Italian-American, Early to mid-late 30s. A hit woman with a vast repertoire of skills such as marksmanship, combat training and some technical knowledge. She is of a calm and calculating personality, with a penchant for strategic planning that had saved her partner Judas Priest's life many times.

**Judas Priest (a.k.a. George Kaplan):** Origin unknown, though he has spent most of his first hundred years in the highlands of Scotland. Appears to be mid to late 30s though over 320. As a vampire, Priest started out as a feared warlord, but as time passed he turned to other ventures such as traveling the world and working for the unites states government before becoming a drug trafficking specialist for various mafia families in the US. Though intelligent and experienced, he often acts too impulsive and was nearly killed many times.

**Sheldon Sands:** American, Deceased. A former CIA station chief in Mexico, he tried to organize a military coupe in Mexico to protect American interests but ended up betrayed and blinded. Losing his position in the Agency, Jack Mason contacted him and offered him a position coordinating the day to day operations of the Opposition's intelligence wing. He was killed in the League's sting operation against the opposition.

**Mernae H. Watts:** British, Mid-20s. Jack Mason's right and woman. She was once described as 'A Rebel and a Saint'. She acts as one of Mason's off-the-books spies and is Harmony Kendall's handler.

**Jenny Diver:** English, appearing to be in 30s but is actually over 100. Often described as a furiously angry pirate. The Black Pearl's first mate and Barbossa's lover for eighty years. She was once a prostitute and a made in a Cornish sea-side hotel. Is the world's deadliest woman with a knife.

**George Costas:** Greek, Mid to late 20s. A particularly violent sailor and bartender, was a member of the Black Pearl's crew from an early age. He is Hector Barbossa's right hand man and bodyguard. His weapon of choice is a shotgun.

**Mashu O'Shaughnessy:** Irish-Japanese, Mid to late 20s. An assassin relegated to monitoring the daily activates of Father Patrick MacKenzie, an English Priest in Latveria who appears to be of importance to the Opposition. He is an excellent swordsman and his weapon of choice is a double handed katana.

**Forrest Gump Jr.:** American, late 20s. Son of a war hero, he is one of the opposition's top computer hackers, second only to Nemo.

**William Hunting:** Irish-American, late 20s. A mathematical prodigy and world-class code-breaker.

**Sgt. David Pepper:** English, Liverpudlian, 60s. Formerly with the British Navy, is the Yellow Submarine's first mate.

**William 'Billy' Shears:** English, Liverpudlian, 50s. The Yellow Submarine's second mate.

**Robert Barnes:** American, Mid-50s. A former CIA Agent believed to be dead. He has decades of experience operating in the Middle East.

**Sayid Jarrah:** Iraqi, Late 30s. Used to be stranded on an Island following a plain crash. A former member of the Iraqi republican guard. Presume dead. A trained soldier, efficient torturer when he needs to be as well as being very technologically capable. Member of the Cairo cell.

**Aisha Fadhil:** Afghan, Early 30s. Daughter of a warlord, a former freedom fighter and CIA informant. Presumed dead. Member of the Cairo cell.

**Fareed Almasry:** Egyptian, Early 70s. An assassin once working for the Egyptian Secret Service. Presumed Dead. Member of the Cairo cell.

**Aladdin Sane:** English-Palestinian, Mid 20s. An independent investigator of great intellect. He broke away from the Cairo cell while they were in Jordan to pursue a lead regarding Project Phoenix. He was caught by the League, tortured for three months and was going to be executed before he was rescued by his team members. He has since lost his sanity and though he may know the secret of Project Phoenix, he's far too paranoid to give the opposition any help. Though he has asserted that in five years the world will end.

**James Saint (a.k.a. St. Jimmy, possibly also known as Jesus DeSuburbia**): American, Mid 20s. Formerly a rebel without a cause and a current anarchist revolutionary. Mernae H. Watts' ex-Boyfriend. An assassin, thief and several other dubious things. The pseudo-leader of the New York Cell.

**Murphy and Connor McManus:** Irish-American twins, Mid 30s. Of Boondock Saints, a group of Boston vigilantes. Members of the New York Cell.

**Lucy Wagner:** German, Early 30s. A German "sensitive" who has an array of psychic powers, including seeing the future presented is surreal symbolic images, sensing the evil one has done by touching them and many others. She has appeared to Priest on occasion in his deliriums. She can also control the wills of others, as she constantly does with Kroenen to keep him in check. Member of the Berlin cell.

**Baron Karl Ruprecht Kroenen:** German, Over 100. A Nazi cyborg, occultists and scientist. He has a masochistic compulsion known as surgical addiction that has made him a mutilated, inhuman mess. He always wears a full suit of black and a gas mask. Despite various injuries through the years, he has remained alive for more than humanly possible through his tremendous will power. Due to the latter point, he has barely any active will of his own besides that to stay alive. He requires a "master" to function, without which it is unknown what might come of him. His former master was the Russian monk Rasputin, his current master is Lucy Wagner. He wields bladed tonfas which he uses with deadly precision.

**Lee Gaum-Ja:** Korean, Early 30s. An ex-con who was put in prison for killing a child. She sought to avenge the child after she was released by killing the real culprit. Formerly was part of the Korean Cell.

**Bruce Wayne (a.k.a. Batman):** American, Early 30s. Wayne met Nemo on his travels and the two became friends. He came in contact with the opposition when Mona and Nemo brought a fatally injured Priest to him and asked for help. Though he and Nemo parted on bad terms, he later agreed to investigate a designer drug manufactured in Gotham, ostensibly by the League. He has since become Nemo's agent in Gotham.

**OTHERS:**

**Cate Archer-Bond:** English, Late 60s. James Bond's neglected and depressed second wife. A former operative for UNITY, a cold war-era counter-terrorism agency.

**Frank Lee:** African-American, Deceased. Judas Priest's son from a one night stand with Vivian Lee, a married woman. Lee and Priest met during the Korean war and had a good relationship up until 1967 when he died.

**Lt. Det. Max Payne:** An NYPD detective and hero cop who shares a mutual bond of affection with Mona Sax, though the relationship seems to be doomed. Payne was last seen recovering from a bullet wound.

**The Priests:** Judas Priest's dysfunctional family. **(Abraxas:** Judas' profoundly evil and insane father who cared little for his own flesh and blood**) (Lilith:** Judas' mother, who was killed by Abraxas during a fit of rage when Judas was a child**) (Grigori:** Judas' sadistic younger brother who bedded his wife at the behest of his father**) (Erika:** Judas' wife, who was barren and couldn't conceive the child that would unite the Clan Priest with the House of Ordoghaz. She is viewed as a victim by her husband, who admits to having been an abusive husband

**Sir Austin D. Powers:** One of the League's top Agents. He arrested MacGuffin and learned of Project Phoenix. He was threatened with the death of his brother Douglas, a repentant terrorist if he ever tried to speak, he spent the following months in depression and eventually killed himself, but not before divulging MacGuffin's location to Priest.

**Major Jeffrey Boothroyd (Q):** English, Mid 80s. MI6's former gadget master. Boothroyd is now an independent contractor designing and building high-tech equipment for those who can afford it.

**Alfred Pennyworth:** Bruce Wayne's trusted butler. Was once held at gunpoint by Mona Sax.

**Senator Regan Thresea McNeil:** A very powerful democratic senator from Washington DC and a leading canddate for the US presidency. She has some form of association with the League, particularly Josephine.

**George Spiggot, Esq. (a.k.a. as The Devil, Lucifer Morningstar and the Lightbringer):** Often takes the form of an English Gentleman, Is as old as the Universe. He commands the legions of Hell and has vast powers, including curing diseases and prolonging one's life.

**Shaun Collier:** English, early thirties. Ex-DJ, ex-appliance store salesman, ex-manager of the Winchester Tavern. He used to aid the opposition in allowing them to stage meetings in his bar, until the League killed and maimed his pregnant wife and left him for dead. Shaun has a hardened personality from once having to survive a zombie apocalypse. His weapon of choice is the Winchester from his favorite bar.

**Dorian Gray (a.k.a. Father Patrick MacKenzie):** English, over 200 though he appears to be around 30. Once a hedonist sinner, now a vicar is a small church in _Doomstadt, Latveria_ and an immortal. He is of special interest to Nemo and co. He is constantly monitored by Mashu O'Shaughnessy.

**Sir Gideon MacGuffin:** Scottish, Mid 70s. Gideon MacGuffin is for all intents and purposes one of the brightest minds of the twentieth century. A graduate of Eton and Oxford, MacGuffin was once the director of Intelligence in the League. He brought Bond onboard in the early seventies and two struck a close friendship. MacGuffin went so far as including Bond in something he was working on; Project Phoenix, whatever it is, Bond became increasingly interested in it. Several years later, the friendship started to deteriorate, as Bond started to climb higher through the ranks and ended up outranking MacGuffin and started actively to try and take over Project Phoenix. MacGuffin decided to get out while he could and went on vacation in Florida, faked his death with the help of a mob boss. He underwent plastic surgery and spent the following years using a number of false identities and living in places with minimal league presence. He was eventually caught by Agent Austin Powers and sent to be interrogated for the next few months in a League prison in the Middle Aast. Judas Priest and Mona Sax eventually started tracking down his movements and located him, he was subsequently freed by the Cairo cell.


	3. Season Premiere

**Now. April 2nd, 2008**

_Regent's Park, London_

"Felix." said Sir James Bond, General Director of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, as he walked side by side with Felix Leiter, Director of the New York City Branch as the two walked through the corridors of the League's main headquarters in Regent's Park, while each's aid followed them closely.

"Jim." said Felix, "Great seeing you old man. I wish the occasion was different."

"Is everyone here?"

"Josephine isn't here yet, or so I was told."

"Josephine..." muttered Bond with disdain, "She picked one hell of a time to go honeymooning with that little minx of hers."

"Benjamin." came a voice from behind them, "And Jabulon. Evening."

Mina Jekyll, also known as Josephine, Director of the Gotham City Branch of the League walked past the two, hardly giving any further acknowledgement, not showing any more respect for the two than that with which they spoke of her.

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The top eight officials of the League rarely ever gathered together, rarely in the strictest manner. In the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen's current, modern form, the eight officials had gathered only twice before. Beyond that, encounters usually meant two or three Branch Director's cooperating on common ground, or James Bond taking a tour of the seven branches, which he did annually.

But like those two other times, crisis had arisen, and so they _had_ to gather once again. The perpetual thorn in the League's side; the opposition led by the four Captains, four former Agents of the League; Captain Nemo, Captain Barbossa, Captain Mason and Captain Raimus, had finally struck the League where they couldn't bear to be struck.

_The War Room_ as it was dubbed was an ample chamber; the walls and the floor were covered with dark gray plastic that covered the various electronics. At one end, opposite the entrance was a massive plasma screen covering an entire wall. At the center of the room was round table, covered n the same kind of plastic, and around the table were eight seating positions, with a plush leather chair and a touch-activated computer screen built into the table, one for each branch director and the eight, designated by a silver semi-circle, was reserved for the General Director.

Bond sat at his position at the round table, shifting his eyes among all seven branch director, who had flocked from every league stronghold, leaving the management of their respective branches to their vice directors.

There was Paik, the Korean industrialist, there was Montoya, the southern American drug lord, Yusuf al-Kherish, the noted diplomat and descendant of one of the captains of the Arabian revolt against the Ottoman empire in world war one, Felix Leiter, the former American spy, Mina Jekyll, who had been a member of the League since the very beginning. There was Peter Gruber, the German mercenary and Sofie Fatale, the French attorney and deputy director for the French branch, seeing as how the director was absolutely unable to attend.

Aside from those eight, the only other attendee was a young gentlewoman there to record the minutes.

Mina Jekyll, codenamed Josephine stood up and started speaking in an English accent somewhat softened from years of living in the united states, saying,

"My fellow extraordinary gentlemen and gentlewomen, our worst fear has come to pass; the opposition has MacGuffin. This meeting has been called to decide what to do."

"Now, hold on just a minute," said Leiter, "They have a mere prisoner that has never been confirmed to be MacGuffin. And even so, what MacGuffin knows, if he is still alive, is only of general relation to Project Phoenix as it stands today."

"I agree with Director Leiter," said Paik, "I do not think anything significant will come of this."

Montoya grunted in disapproval,

"Director Jekyll is very right in her willingness to cover the bases," he said, "We really should consider an aggressive plan to eliminate any threat before it is materialized."

"Such a massive operation would require considerable concentration and massive resources." said Bond, "Do not forget that We're still in the second year of our five year plan. With the upcoming schedule in '08, we do not need anymore on our plate."

"I personally would like to know why is it that we have waited thus far to crack down on them," said Gruber, "We should have attacked them all in '92 when they were weakened and we had the chance."

"You know why that is, Gruber," said al-Kherish, "We need the opposition leaders alive. There are things they know that we've spent billions and decades in trying to find to no avail, such as the fountain of youth, the Blazing World and Davy Jones' Locker, both are known to only Nemo and Barbossa."

"They likely have a good idea of what Phoenix is." said Josephine loudly, silencing all the smaller voices, "The man thy have is MacGuffin, there has been always little doubt of that. The opposition are neither stupid nor week, they are highly intelligent, resourceful and natural survivors. If I remember correctly we had two of their leaders sabotaged and left for dead after the war, and they survived till this very day.

"They are he most dangerous people on this world, because they believe that the world would be better if it weren't for us. Once MacGuffin tells them what he knows, they will fill in the gaps for themselves. And you can trust me as I say that they will spare neither coin nor blood in stoping it... None of that would have happened if we had given priority to shutting them down years ago like I had told you all."

At that last sentence Mina and Bond's eyes met in a stare full of hatred and contempt, so intense that the other six descended into a shocked silence. There was no love between those two, no good feelings at all, and though not even they knew it at the time, that stare would mark the end of an era, an the beginning of a contest.

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**Days ago**

_The Yellow Submarine._

_Off the coast of Okinawa, Japan_

Captain Nemo walked through the corridors of the Yellow Submarine toward the loading docks. The submarine was already on its way to _the island_ as were the Black Pearl and the Red October. It would be quite an event; almost every member of the opposition in the same place at the same time, from the four Captains to the lowest sailing crew. Nothing like that has ever happened before, not in the sixty years of the opposition, since Hector Barbossa's ship had wrekced on the same beach where Prince Dakkar had washed up a year earlier. Not even more than two of the Captain had ever been in the same country at the same time before.

"Gaum-Ja." said Nemo as he saw the Korean beauty, clad in a leather coat and ignoring the lustful stares of the crew. The men looked away and scattered as soon as they realized their Captain was there. Lee Gaum-Ja, who formerly worked collecting information about the League's east-Asian branch, before her cover was blown and she had to flee, had been undertaking a special assignment in Japan, with the aid of Hatori Hanzo, the renowned assassin.

"Captain." said Gaum-Ja, "What's happening?"

"Someone sold us out." said Nemo, "Every last member of the opposition who hasn't been killed in on his way to a secret location."

"Is that where were going?"

"Yes. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay." said Gaum-Ja, lowering her head to disguise her flattery at Nemo's concern, "I found it."

"Have you?"

"Yes." said Gaum-Ja as she reached into her black leather coat's pocket, and produced a tiny piece of paper, pasty white and completely blank, perhaps less than two square inches in area.

"This is all that's left." said Gaum-Ja, "This is the piece. This is the death note."

* * *

There it was, the seaon premiere. I've already written around fifteen chapters, so for the next month or so updating will be like clockwork. This season I plan on making a little bit different, it'll be a bit darker, more noirish, and more eventful. There will be a number of story arcs leading to the cataclysim finale, involving every character I could think of, from Spider-Man to God. Which leads for my request, I need a fictional Prime Minister of the UK. You can suggest a character that you think could have become PM by 2008, though. I want to hear your suggestion.

**Next chapter** sees the return of the femme fatales, vampire drug dealers, grieving bartenders, spies, ex-soviets, pirate lords, german psychics, prostitutes-slash-pirates and miscellaneous shady characters like that.

R&R.


	4. The Island

**Now**

"You know..." said Priest, his voice muffled by the motorcycle helmet he wore to block the sun, as he walked the sandy beach alongside Mona and Shaun, "This place really makes me miss Gotham."

A day and a half after leaving Liverpool, Captain Barbossa's submarine, the Black Pearl had arrived at the island, the location of which neither Mason nor Barbossa had disclosed. There were no visible buildings or signs of inhabitation, only a thick and green forest. All along the way, there was an atmosphere ot tension aboard the vessel, the Crew didn't seem too excited about the new arrivals. The new arrivals did not take too comfortably to their new surroundings either, even Mona and Priest who had previously spent several weeks aboard Nemo's Yellow Submarine. Gump and Hunting had kept to themselves, Mona, Priest and Shaun stuck together, albeit Shaun was moping for almost the whole time. There was a tall blond woman fleetingly glimpsed by Mona, and then there was O'Brien, a tall thin man who talked with a Boston accent, he seemed to be a very friendly person to the extent of being borderline overbearing.

At the moment, Jenny, Barbossa and Mason walked together at the front, while Mona, Shaun and Priest walked five feet behind them, the blond woman a few feet behind, then Gump and Hunting, then the three Saints, followed by Eel O'Brien at the rear, who was the only remaining member of the Caracas cell.

"It's only a stop, Priest." said Barbossa, "This where we all must gather. This is not our final destination."

"By all do you mean everyone who hasn't been killed?" asked Priest, ineffectively scratching the back of his hand that itched from the leather gloves he wore.

"Yes, precisely... Ah, I see we're not the first ones here." said Barbossa as he pointed on the other side of the island, where there appeared to be people going about, and a black vessel, ostensibly a submarine was surfaced a hundred meters away.

"How many submarines do you people have?" asked Shaun, who was reeling from all the recent sudden changes, finding himself caught in a new life of danger and intrigue, filled with shady characters and independent submarines.

"Just the three." said Barbossa, "That would be the Red October."

"Wait a minute, Yellow Submarine? Black Pearl? Red October? What about you, Mason, why don't you have a submarine called the Pink Phallus or something?"

"I'm an infantry man, Mister Priest," said Mason as he rolled up his shirt sleeves, ignoring the unwarranted insult, "Just like you."

"I'm no infantry man."

"Your files say different."

"That was in a different time, long gone and forever lost. My soldiering days are long dead and buried."

There was a sound of something in the water and all ten looked out to the ocean to see the Yellow Submarine surface, bursting out of the depths like some golden leviathan.

"You know, painting a submarine yellow is one thing," said Mona, "But actually calling it 'The Yellow Submarine' is just silly."

* * *

"There they are, George." said Jenny as she and Costas took a brief break from their work to look at Mason, Nemo, Raimus and Barbossa as they stood opposite each other, "The four horsemen of the apocalypse." 

The crew of the Red October had nearly finished setting up a camp on the island; a fuel generator was set up but wasn't turned on and wasn't serving a purpose at that point. All non crew members were making themselves comfortable, and so Jimmy decided to enter a tent had selected earlier before going to relax.

"Hey!" said Jimmy as he saw Priest laying face down on the floor of the tent.

"Piss off, I'm sleeping."

"I ain't pissing anywhere! You want to sleep or whatever you go and find your own tent!"

Priest got up and stared Jimmy in the face.

"Do you mind? I have various things to ponder, and I've already taken off my helmet."

Jimmy stared back at Priest, but with recognition.

"Dude, you're supposed to be dead."

"What? Do I know you or something?"

"I saw you get shot in the chest four times in a New York 7-11, about four months ago... I almost slipped on your blood when I left... Your hair was longer then."

"Yeah, I go a hair cut... Anything else?"

"Sure." said Jimmy as he eagerly retreated, "Enjoy the tent."

* * *

"The New Yorkers; the Saints have survived," said Mason as the four Captains stood in a square facing each other, "As have Gump and Hunting, who are our code-breakers. Mr. Collier, Mr. Priest and Ms. Sax have also made it." 

"Collier?" asked Raimus.

"He ran a pub that we used to stage some meetings and assisted Sands on occasion. The League killed his wife and left him to die. The other two rescued him and insisted on bringing him along."

"I see," said Nemo, "Ms. Lee has also survived, and has managed to successfully fulfill her mission in Japan. My Gotham contact has also survived, since he has remained in contact with only me, I expect he will continue to operate, as long as he only deals with me. I hope you don't mind."

"I'm sure we don't. Only two from the Berlin cell remain," said Barbossa , "Kroenen and Wagner, the psychic. One man of the Paris cell survived, but died after loosing too much blood during his escape, and we couldn't get him to a hospital in time."

"Is Kroenen under control?" asked Mason, "I shudder to think what would happen if he ever wasn't."

"As long as Miss Wagner is alive and well he won't harm us, she has him like a ring around her finger."

"Shouldn't she perhaps remain in the Black Pearl, then? Doesn't she need to be close to him to control him?"

"Her grasp on his will is diminished with distance, yes. But that would take a few days. We're perfectly safe, trust me."

"Only Patrick O'Brien survived of the Caracas cell." said Raimus, "The Cairo cell is intact, though one suffered an injury when they broke MacGuffin out of his prison. MacGuffin himself is denying that he's MacGuffin, insisting he's a retired Scottish electrical engineer named Brian Talbot."

"He must think this is all a trick to get him to admit its really him." said Mason, "Breaking him out of prison, kill a few of his captors in the process then whisking him away to an uninhabited island. It does seem unbelievable"

"Or maybe it really isn't him." said Barbossa.

"That's impossible."

"Because the man who caught him told his location to your man Priest before offing himself? I admit it is rather convincing."

"How can you believe he may be faking it?"

"I'm not saying he's faking it. But would you believe the ramblings of a man who blows his brain out on a whim? Besides... I'm not too comfortable with Priest, I had heard of him once from a fellow pirate called Teague, he said he wasn't as sounds as he appeared."

"Priest's reputation isn't the point," said Mason, "How are we going to get Talbot to open up?"

"One of the Cairo men used to be an interrogator for the Iraqi Republican Guard..." said Raimus before Nemo interrupted him.

"You're not suggesting we torture him, are you?"

"Sayid can be persuasive without resorting to such tactics, however if the need arises, he'll have to do what he has to do. Time of the essence, and we have sacrificed to liberate him, after all."

"Definitely not," said Mason, "He's been tortured for six months, I doubt Sayid could break him in a few days' time."

"Besides, we have a psychic in our ranks." said Barbossa, "Ms. Wager will talk to 'Talbot'."

"Yes, I suppose that would suffice." said Raimus.

"Now let's talk about the intelligence wing." Barbossa said, "Priest said that there was a massacre in Sands' apartment that had been cleaned up, that means they took all the bodies."

"Which means that some of them might still be alive, I know. But we can't do anything for them."

"That's unfortunately correct; however the point is that whoever the treacherous turncoat within our ranks has been feeding the League information is, he could still be within our midst."

"Who do you suspect, Nemo?"

"Everyone outside the four of us."

"What do you mean everyone?" asked Barbossa, "Surely it had to be someone with proper skills to be able to attain Sands' location and records."

"It would seem that way. But it's unlikely for the League to use an informant when they can dispatch one of their own to do the job. It could be a regular crew member on any of our submarines, who is capable to predict when the communications will be unattended which is when he could try and find the location of all others. It could have been any of the cells, using any of the lap tops we issue our signal could be traced... It really could be anyone outside the four of us, perhaps with the exception of Jenny and Mister Collier."

* * *

"I don't like it here. I don't trust these people." Aisha said as she sat outside a tent, sharpening her knife as she often did. 

"Shocking." quipped Sayid as he sat nearby, stretching his wounded leg, "I don't like it either, I had hoped to never see a beach again in all my life."

"You're both insane." said Almasry, in a rare once-in-a-blue-moon occasion of being in a chatty mood, "It isn't Sharm al-Sheikh, but I like it."

"We had the luck to get out the Cairo while everyone else was getting killed." said Barnes as he lay on his back on a straw mat, enjoying the sun with his eyes closed, "For the first time in the nearly two years we've been working together we have no people to spy on, no codes to break and nothing to shoot. So shut up and enjoy it."

"What about Aladdin?" Sayid asked, "Is he going to stay locked in the Red October for the rest of his life?"

"Raimus told me he'll release him tomorrow at the latest."

* * *

Priest stretched on the floor having just woken up, his spine crackled and he grunted contently. The first stretch of sleep he had all week was relaxing, he was invigorated and felt in high spirits, though the craving in him was not gone and seemed accentuated by his rest. He got up to his feet and pulled his shirt off, then stepped out of his tent, nt bothering to put on his boots. 

It was well into the night, his innate vampiric sense of night time told him it was close to midnight. The camp had gotten more crowded as crew and operatives alike took to the tents they had been pitching all day along. Many of them were outside, sitting and chatting around bonfires. Aisha, whom Priest had not met, much like he didn't every one else turned to look at him with cold glare. He simply returned the look for a moment till she looked away, scanning his surroundings, he could see Jimmy, the MacManus Brothers and Will Hunting and Forrest Gump Jr., the latter two Priest has fleetingly crossed in the Black Pearl. Their eyes were set on Priest at the moment, Jimmy obviously was telling them about how he had seen him slumped on the ground in a store in Manhattan, dead. He could also see Nemo conversing with Barbossa and Jenny, the three seemed to be greatly at home with each other, as if they were ancient friends. Mona and Shaun were no where to be seen, he conjectured that they were somewhere with that German girl they had met earlier, who seemed to look familiar, though he had not been to Germany in the girl's lifetime.

A few seconds and everyone had lost interest in him. Priest discretely turned around his tent and walked away, into the jungle. Among the thick bushes and tall trees and the pitch black darkness he walked, guided by sense superior to a normal man, finding his way with ease. His way was bound for some territory, any territory would do. Eventually he could hear growls, and heard something big as it flew in the air and managed to duck in the last moment.

The beast landed fifteen feet away and turned to stare at that disrespectful intruder that had just invaded his territory, and the intruder gazed back.

Priest could see that the beast he had managed to anger, a great, mean looking gray wolf, almost four feet in heights, and mad as hell.

"_'My grandmother, you're one big fucking wolf!_" mumbled Priest as he crouched, bearing his fangs, every inch of him ravenous. Ravenous was Priest, for having not had a drop of blood for an entire week, not having been in a decent scrap since he had left London the first time, which was almost a month ago.

The great wolf charged forward, his eyes glimmering with ferocity in the moonlight. Priest returned the favor.

* * *

While Priest dukes it out with the big bad wolf, you can pass the time by reviewing and junk.

Also, I'm writing a film noir kind of story over at the Max Payne section, the story can be accesed through my profile. I'd appreciate it if you could check it out.

**Next Chapter:** _Happiness is a warm Gun. _Meet the new M, and bring an apple for Professor Sax.


	5. Happiness is a Warm Gun

**Now**

_The Island_

"What do you mean you saw a vast blackness?" asked Mason.

The four Captains were in a conference with Lucy Wagner in the Red October's bridge, regarding Lucy's meeting with the captive in the Red October's brig who claimed to be a man named Brian Talbot, but was believed to be Sir Gideon MacGuffin, the man whose intellect first spawned Project Phoenix.

"I asked him if he was MacGuffin, he said he wasn't." said Lucy uneasily, buckling under the unintended hostility Barbossa was speaking with, "His answer is- how do you say it? Irrelevant." said Lucy nervously, "All I needed is to produce a feeling in him, a feeling meaning him being honest or deceptive. But I couldn't read anything all."

"How come?"

"Some people cannot be read; psychics like me can not penetrate them, we cannot see what they feel. Such people might be born with this trait, nearly one in every thousand. Though I once learned that it can be granted, by an extremely powerful telepath."

"So you're saying that he might still be MacGuffin?"

"I'm do not know if Herr Talbot is really as such or if he is this MacGuffin that you seek."

Raimus sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, saying,

"Thank you Miss Wagner. You can return to the beach now."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help." said Lucy as she got up.

"No need to apologize, child." said Barbossa, and watched as Lucy exit.

"Miss Wagner." called Nemo before Lucy could leave, she turned back.

"Yes?"

"Could you perhaps go get yourself a cup of tea or something, then return in ten minutes?"

"Of course."

Lucy left. Barbossa turned to Nemo and asked,

"What was that about?"

"I'll explain later." said Nemo, "What do you think of what she had to say?"

"Well, it explains why they kept interrogating him for so long." said Raimus, "The League has a number of psychics in their employ, but not enough to interrogate most of their arrests. However a prisoner such as Talbot would warrant one of the top psychics to pay him a visit. I think that's damnable proof that he is MacGuffin, who is crafty enough to make preparations for if he ever got captured."

"Or perhaps Talbot is the unluckiest bastard that ever lived." said Barbossa.

"Quite." said Mason, "For all intents and purposes, Talbot appears to be Talbot; he passed the League's lie-detectors, gave a blank reading for the psychics, maintained his story while injected with drugs and after enduring tremendous torture.

"However, MacGuffin is trained to deceive lie-detectors and withstand torture, has an immunity to psychic readings, either natural or acquired, not to mention that the League had perfected a surgical method that increases certain enzymes that negate truth serum's effect."

"So far we've done or thought about doing everything the League have done. Perhaps we should consider doing something we would never do?" Nemo said.

"Like what?" asked Barbossa.

"We'll release him, allow him to mingle with everyone else. Perhaps that will calm him."

"Surely that's not all?"

"Of course not, I have a plan. One that might also help with our suspected turncoat. First, we need Miss Wagner to covertly read everyone. No one knows she's a psychic outside the four of us, correct? Now, she will eventually..."

* * *

_London_

M watched as the rain fell down thick and heavy, washing down the sides of the polished oak casket as the attendees lowered their heads with sorrow and grief.

The mourners were in in a great number, all dressed in black according to custom. Three in every four of them were women, usually young but all very attractive, which wasn't at all surprising considering the identity of the departed. The rest were mysterious looking men, rum looking characters who looked of an obvious kind of mystery, their clandestine vocation was clear as daylight to anyone who cared to look closely, cloak and dagger types, the lot of them.

One woman, a tall thing of her sixties with considerable charms collapsed onto the drenched grass. Gasps ran through the crowd as the adjacent gentry of lesser standing rushed to her aid.

A young man in a raincoat arrived at M's side, offering a plate of dirt and a putty knife. M picked up the instrument and took a dig of the wet dirt, then stepped forward and dropped the dirt onto the coffin, he returned the instrument and stepped back into place.

"So long, Austin."

The plate of dirt passed among the attendees, some left as they were done. M as his name was in actuality eyed a tall, gray haired slender woman of seventy as she left, her hands burried in the pockets of her trench coat and her head protected from the falling rain by her an umbrella held by her muscle bound bodyguard.

"Already the world feels grayer, now that Austin Powers is no longer with us."

"Sorry, M? I didn't quite catch that." said a brown haired, demure young woman who walked alongside M.

"Veruca... Miss Salt, when we're inside the confines of Voxhall Cross, I am M... At all other times, I am Basil Exposition."

"Sorry, Sir."

"It's alright."

"If I may ask, sir, is there any suspected reason why Sir Austin took his own life?"

"Powers was a man of principles, the League were people of pragmatism. It was the clash between his duties and his convictions that killed him. I asked him not to join them, three years ago when he decided to leave MI-6. I knew something like this was bound to happen."

"Mr. Exposition, if I may ask, who was that tall woman? I don't recognize her."

"That was Emma Peel, deputy director of the League, come to pay her obligatory respects."

"You don't seem to think much of the League, sir."

"Let's just leave, Miss Salt."

* * *

_The Island_

Talbot walked across the beach, afraid and suspicious of all those around him. After over six months of isolation and captivity he had finally been allowed out of a small, constricting cell. His captors having finally believing he wasn't Gideon MacGuffin, the man they were seeking and the man they had previously believed him to be. Talbot however, realized that they were not speaking the truth, and that they believed he still may be MacGuffin.

The sight was almost too incredible to bear, the shear size of it was more than he could handle. He had long forgotten what a Horizon could look like, and the sensation of the wind blowing through his beard and hair, cool and soothing.

Talbot was met by curious and suspicious stares from the inhabitants of the beach-side campsite, though none were antagonizing. No one talked to him as he made his way to the tent they promised him, which was one of two which were to the north border of the camp. He entered only to discover it wasn't vacant, as a slim, somewhat short man sat cross-legged on the ground, reading an old and torn paperback book.

"Hey, watch it!" said the man as he slithered away, "Get in, keep the motherfucking sunlight out!"

Talbot did as he was asked, making sure to shut the slit through which he came.

"You must be MacGuffin." said the man as he got up.

"I'm not MacGuffin!" barked Talbot in a Scottish brogue, "Why won't you all understand that? My name is TALBOT! Brain Talbot!"

"What the fuck? Shit, you didn't have to bite my head off!"

"I'm sorry...I..."

"Yeah, its okay. You've been locked up for seven months, tortured and interrogated to get you to admit to being MacGuffin, I understand if that name is the last thing you want to hear. Have they been treating you okay?"

"I'm in one piece. Since my liberation I had not been harmed by your people."

"Glad to hear it." said Priest as he extended his hand, "I'm Judas Priest. I'm the one who found out your location."

Talbot eagerly shook Priest's hand, "Talbot. And thank you. I cannot express how I am eternally in your debt!"

"Thanks." said Priest with a chuckle, "But I can't take all the credit, Mona did half the work. I'll introduce you to her later. Right now I'll bet you want some time alone, your tent is the one next door."

"I see, my mistake."

"It's okay, just watch the sunlight on your way out."

"Um... What is it with you and the sun, anyway?"

"Long story," said Priest as he sat back on the ground and picked up his book, "some of us are less alike than others. Surely you understand."

"I think I do. Look, can I say something?"

"I'm all ears."

"I am thankful to all of you for coming to my rescue, even though you shared my jailers' wrong notion of who I was. The Pakistani chap promised to take me anywhere I wanted once things quieted down. And I'm not entirely clear on who the people who held me were, or who you people are. I think one or the other is a spy ring, or so I've gathered... My point is, I'm not MacGuffin. I swear to Christ that I'm not."

Priest looked down, slightly disappointed.

"I think I believe you, Brian."

"Thank you, have a nice day."

* * *

**A Few Days Ago**

_London_

The League's summit was over and done with, resulting in plans to crack down harder on the opposition's activities, plans of trivial significance, worth little more than the air they breathed while discussing them. All that really happened was an increase in the tense relationships between the League's top eight. And now that the whole charade was over, it was time for Mina to head back to Gotham and resume her duties as Branch Director.

Mandy was downstairs, in the hotel's lobby waiting for Mina so that they could both head to the airport. Mina was still in her room looking for a pair of earrings she had misplaced. She leaned by a mantle and spied the jewel earring on the floor. Glad, she picked them up and straightened up to look into the mirror and put them on. She gasped as she was met with someone else's reflection, standing behind hers.

"Bond, what are you doing here?" she angrily asked.

"We need to talk, Josephine."

"Talk is all we've done for three days, I'm leaving." said Mina as she picked up her purse and tried to walk past Bond.

Bond rudely grabbed her hold of her by the forearm, preventing her from leaving. He looked with hatred into her eyes, his grip unwavering.

"Bond..." Mina growled, "Let go of me."

She tried to free herself of his grasp, but she couldn't. For being a man of advanced age, well past his prime, Bond still had most of his strength in him.

"Listen to me, you little bitch."

"How dare you?"

"How dare **you**? Speaking like that, against **me**? _**ME!**_ You think you've got anyone fooled? Well think again."

"What in the bloody hell are you on about?"

Bond tightened his grip, and lowered his arm, causing Mina pain. Despite the tearing sensation, she resisted the urge to make any sign of hurt, denying Bond any satisfaction.

"You think you're better than everyone, you think you deserve better, but you're wrong. I know you've been eyeing my position for years, but you're never going to get it... The League will never allow a vampire bitch to run it."

"Bond, why don't you go fuck yourself?"

Bond released Mina's hand. She rubbed it slightly as the pain dissipated.

"There. Now.."

Before Mina could continue, Bond raised his hand and came down with a slap to Mina's face that knocked her to the ground.

Mina looked up at Bond in stunned silence as she got on her elbows, filled with shock and disbelief.

"Does this make you feel like a man, Bond?" asked Mina as she rubbed her throbbing cheek, "Does this make up for the fact that you're a shriveled, over the hill shadow of your former self? DOES IT?"

"Never insult me again," said Bond as he gave Mina his back, then made his way to the door, "Or you can start looking for another job."

* * *

"Is everything fine, Sir?" asked Michael Costas as Bond exited the elevator.

"Everything is fine, Michael." said Bond nervously, "Listen, later on, arrange for a special detail of bodyguards to provide security to my residence."

"As you wish, Sir. But why, you're not expecting an attack, are you?"

"No," said Bond, "But its best to be on the safe side, you know?"

"I'll get right on it."

"Make sure they're fitted with anti-vampire side-arms and UV-lights"

* * *

**Now**

_The Island_

Mona watched as Lucy walked away, having just had a somewhat bizarre kind of conversation with her.

"Is it just her, or are all Germans that weird?"

Shaun didn't respond, and simply looked out into the vast and turbulent ocean.

"What's the deal with her anyway?" Mona asked again, "I asked Nemo what her specialty was and he wouldn't tell me. I thought we were past all that need to know shit."

Shaun was still reeling from the brutal murder of his wife at the hands of the league less than a week ago, and was still withdrawn, talking to no one but Mona and Priest and doing so ever so briefly and increasingly infrequently. He continued to look out into the ocean while Mona did something behind his back, a couple of moments later he heard a click, then five sudden loud bangs that snapped him back into reality.

"What the hell was that?" he asked as he got up and looked behind to see Mona smiling with unmistakable satisfaction, with a smoking Beretta in her hand. Twenty-five feet away were five shattered bottles and three others still intact.

"_'Happy-neeeeeess is a waaaaaaarm gunnnn...'_" sang Mona, suddenly remembering a song from an old Beatles record that her father used to play on those rare occasions when he was trying to go straight and the family was all together.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Target practice. I gotta stay sharp."

"Well you should have at least told me you were going to do that!"

"Shaun, if you're going to stick around with these people, you're going to have to get used to unexpected shooting."

"Bloody hell!" said Shaun as he brushed his head.

"Would you like to learn to shoot?" asked Mona as she held the gun by the barrel and offered it to Shaun.

"What? I can already."

"Show me."

Shaun was hesitant, but took the gun and aimed it. He held it unsurely with his left hand and looked between Mona and the three bottles once ot twice before pulling the trigger repeatedly.

"Well, you can fire a gun..." said Mona as she looked at three bottles that stood in place, "But it's not called shooting unless you hit something."

"Sorry." said Shaun as he returned the gun, "I'm fairly decent with my Winchester, though."

"Its okay." said Mona as she reloaded the weapon and returned it, "Lets try again, shall we?"

* * *

**A Few Days Ago**

_London_

Mina looked into the bathroom mirror, at her bruised cheek. With a piece of tissue paper she wiped her tears, then picked up an ice pack and pressed it to the blue spot. Come nighttime, it would heal in a second, but until then it was going to sting and it was going to show.

She walked out of the bathroom, kicked off her high-heels and picked up her phone, dialed a number from her list, lay down on a sofa, closed her eyes with one hand holding the ice pack and the othe holding the phone to her ear and she waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?... Mandy, I'm afraid I'm not going to be coming down just yet... I'm fine, but there's something I have to take care of here in London... No, it's a private matter, you go ahead and take the flight back to Gotham, I'll be there by tomorrow morning... No, love, I don't think you should stay and keep me company, this is something I don't want you to see... No its fine, I swear, there's just someone I have to see while I'm here. I hope you understand... I'm positive...Thank you, Mandy. Goodbye, I love you."

* * *

Bond has gone and done it, hasn't he?

R&R.

**Next Chapter** has it all; infra-red goggles, sexual harassment, Las Vegas, psychopomps and Ed Hyde's statue.


	6. Return to Hyde Park

Lucy looked at the marmalade skies high above, then looked over at the river's banks, with their tangerine trees and their towering cellophane flowers as the gondola floated down the river.

"I didn't expect to be come here." she said with a chuckle, "What happened?"

The Angel spread his blackened wings to cover her with their massive shadow, and gently rubbed her shoulders.

"Some minds, child, must never be read." he said in a near whisper.

Lucy turned around to look at the Angel clad in his old fashioned dinner suit, though he wore no jacket.

"Is that it?" asked Lucy, "I was ejected from my plane to here because the man I read is that evil?"

"He may not be evil, child, some people carry all the horrors of mankind in them, yet its not always a part of them. Some nobly spend their lives battling those unsacred parts of them."

"You sound certain."

"I am certain, after all, I was once su-"

"YOU FEED THAT WHORE LIES!"

Lucy frightfully backed away, toward the Angel and away from the Beast, who sat at the front of the boat. A hulking demon, dressed in tattered rags and an old rusty helmet covering his face.

"He. Is. _**Evil!!!!**_" growled the Demon.

"Do excuse my friend, Lucy." said the Angel, unfazed by the Demon's outburst, "He thinks all the souls we collect are evil and worthy of punishment. Anyway, I was saying that I am certain of what I said, I was a man such as that in a past life."

"Wait, I've been here before, but..." said Lucy, "Who are you?"

"We are deaths emissaries, one of many through the ages tasked by the Archangel Azrael with escorting the souls of the departed into the afterlife. I, the reigning Angel of Death ferry the worthy into the Silver city, Heaven. My associate drags the damned to the valley of darkened pits, Inferno."

"Wait a minute, there is more than one personification of death?"

"We are called psychopomps," said the Angel, "and yes, there are many of us. There is a psychopomp for those who die at sea, his name is Turner, and there is a psychopomp for nations and empires, the horrible, epic deaths, the regicides and the genocides, he is Azrael, who commands us all."

"And whose death is yours?" asked Lucy as she spied a bridge appearing ahead of them suddenly.

"Those of the souls of those that have died in battle, thoe who have made their purpose to save or damn all others."

"So, if you weren't always an angel, then someone else must have been doing your job before you?"

"Yes, She was a Valkyrie, the last of her kind. None of us will last for ever. None of us was the first, and none of us will be the last. Only Azrael remains the constant."

"So why are you two doing this?"

"Its... complicated." said the Angel, "We have a debt to settle before myself and my friend can move on, we have this duty to perform for a few hundred years. After that, someone else will have to take my wings and go about this task."

"This is odd," said Lucy, "I don't know why I never asked you all this before."

"You have," said the Angel as he looked at his watch, "You have asked me that and more, but you always forget once you've returned home, remembering only that you met us. And sadly, that is about to happen again, child. Its time for you to go home."

* * *

**Now**

_The Island_

Jenny rushed to where everyone was huddled on the north side of the camp. Penetrating the crowd, she saw Lucy slumped on the ground, unconscious. Doctor Robert, an oddly bearded man and the Yellow Submarine's medical officer was checking her vitals.

"What happened?" asked Jenny.

"It'd alright, Miss Diver." said Robert in a Liverpool accent, "She just fainted. She's starting to come to."

"All right everyone," commanded Jenny, "Sod off, okay? Give the girl some room to breathe."

The crowd scattered in a hurry, as Jenny was a notoriously persuasive and commanding woman. She and Robert helped Lucy to her feet.

"Are you alright, luv?" asked Jenny as she held Lucy's arm to support her.

"I'm... I'm fine. I just fainted. It must be the sun."

"Alright, Doctor Robert, you may leave."

"Yes, ma'am." said Robert as he took his leave, once he was out of an earshot Jenny turned to Lucy and asked,

"What happened?"

"I was reading everyone, secretly like Captain Nemo said, and then I blacked out."

"Who were you last talking to?"

"Umm... I'm not sure, I think it was the vampire, that Priest person."

"Okay. Can you walk?"

"Yes. I'm fine, honestly."

"Alright, then. Get some rest, that's an older. And don't read anyone until tomorrow."

As Lucy left, Jenny headed toward one of the two tents at the far northern side of the camp.

"You!" Jenny said as she got in.

"Hello Jenny." Priest said as he sat in the corner drinking his vodka.

"What did you do to Lucy?"

"Nothing. She just came in here, acting strange. I offered her a drink, she didn't want one. And then two seconds later she has an odd look on her face and she staggers out. What the hell happened to her?"

"She fainted."

"Is she okay?"

"She'll be alright."

"Hm."

Jenny eyeballed Priest as he took a swig. Priest in turn starred into Jenny's green eyes. Neither were wavering in their animosity or their hard-headedness.

"Jenn, if you've got anything else to say to me, then by all means..."

"I'm shopping you, Priest."

A few moments later Jenny simply retreated, making a point of not shutting the slit in the tent behind her.

"Oh, poor Hector."

* * *

_Las Vegas, Nevada_

A.J. Cooper, supposed owner and manager of the of the Montecito casino, hotel and resort stepped up to where the limousine had pulled up, put on a smile as a valet opened the back door.

"Lord John, welcome back."

Lord John Byrd stepped out, he was a somewhat tall, slim man of his late thirties, his hair was brown and he had a neatly trimmed goatee. He wore a blaringly expensive coat and held a walking stick in his hand. He was followed by an older, fatter gentleman in a suit.

"Edward! It is always a pleasure." said Lord John in cheerfully, in a sophisticated British accent, "Thank you for having me. Tell me, how is my hotel?"

"Josh, you look great." said Cooper, addressing Lord John's manservant.

"Mister Cooper, you are too kind." said Josh.

"The Montecito is as in good a hand as it has always have. Your suite has been prepared and you as always have to simply ask and you shall receive."

"Thank you, A.J.. I knew it would be. So tell me, what's on schedule for this week, in term of entertainment?"

"Well, it just so happens that you're in time for the World Title match, Balboa Vs. Coolidge."

"How about Lorne?" asked Lord John, "The gent with the green skin and the fake little red horns?"

"He's on for tomorrow night. Also, Johnny Fontaine, coming out of retirement."

"Marvelous."

"So, how was Singapore?"

_

* * *

_

_The Island_

Lucy sat on a wicker chair, holding a mug full of coffee as she asked,

"Did something happen to Kroenen? When I blacked out, I might have lost control over him."

"Kroenen is under control, he's still idle, back in the Black Pearl. What did you learn?"

"I read more than half of everyone. A few have psychic blocks, like Mister Talbot, but that's to be expected. I didn't find anyone who might be the mole. I will read the rest tomorrow."

"But one of the ones with a block might be our mole?"

"Perhaps. Psychic reading in not an exact science, and what scientists know for sure tends not to get published. There might be methods of evading my readings that I am not aware of."

"Fair enough, what about Priest?"

"As I said, I was reading him then something happened. It's a blur. Maybe it is because of what he is."

"Alright, anything else?"

"Hhhh...Everyone seems to be troubled, they're not sure what is going on. They're paranoid, each group trusting none of the others. Everyone feels... doomed."

Barbossa hung his head.

"Perhaps that will change if we learn that all our labor was not for nothing, Herr Barbossa."

"I hope so, Lucy." said Barbossa as he left.

* * *

"The files were disturbed." said Nemo, speaking to Raimus and Mason as they stood in a secluded spot on the beach, "Whoever did it made sure to be very subtle, but I can tell. Someone had been in my office, going through my papers."

"Just like you suspected." said Mason, "Any idea who?"

"None, whatsoever."

"Do you know what they got?"

"What I thought they would go after. The culprit could have had a pick of some misleading information I left laying around, but he couldn't send it anyway. The intelligence he or she has collected is of immediate relevance."

"Excellent."

"Yes, it is. Now, we have to decide what is to be done once we've sorted everything out. We're going to have to build an entire network from scratch, we'll have to get someone to run it, take Sands' place. He need to restaff all the cells, it'll probably take a year or so."

"Not necessarily," said Mason with a smile, "I have someone in mind. A specialist in intel insertion, capable of building our network in less than two months."

"Sounds ideal," said Nemo, "But such a person would surely not be in excess of free time."

"You may be right, but the man will definitely lend us his ears, once he knows who we represent. Or more importantly, who we oppose."

"Who is this man?" asked Raimus.

"I will tell you, but not yet. Suffice to say he's very good, the League tried to recruit him several times, and were rebuffed every time."

"Sounds like a man after my heart."

"Also, I expect you might have heard of him yourself, Marko."

"Have I?" asked Raimus "Where from?"

"Afghanistan."

* * *

**Later. After the sunset**

"Aisha, stop it!" yelled Sayid.

"No! Don't stop!" roared Aladdin Sane, as paranoid and insane as he'd been for months, "He's one of them! Kill him, Aisha! Feed him his balls!"

Aisha hit Priest in the jaw with a powerful right jab that sent him reeling back, she hit him once again with a left hook.

"Crazy bitch!" cursed Priest with a bloody mouth as he punched Aisha, hitting her in the jaw and knocking her off her feet.

"What the bloody hell's going on?" Shaun asked O'Brien.

"I dunno, man! They were just arguing quietly and then the arab chick started beating that dude up!" said O'Brien, "God, she is hot!!"

"Isn't anyone going to stop them?" asked Shaun.

"Don't you dare!" said Sayid, "She's likely to tear your arms off!"

Priest kicked Aisha in the stomach, then as she leaned over he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her head up, only for Aisha to chop him in the throat, nearly crushing his windpipe. Priest was stunned long enough for Aisha to jump and aim a spinning heel kick to Priest's jaw, flipping him over till he landed on his face.

"Ooh!" and "Aah!" sounded the spectators, while Aisha straddled Priest and started clobbering him with punch after punch after punch.

Mona and Jenny, who were a distance away during the fight came running. They pulled the angered Aisha off of Priest and struggled to restrain her, as Shaun, O'Brien and Gump tried to help Priest up. O'Brien, curiously enough, stretched his arms, wrapping several time around Priest's torso.

"You...You crazy bitch!" cursed Priest spitting, a number oh his teeth out in the process, "You fucking crazy whore! I WILL KILL YOUUU!!!** ARGHHH!**"

The three struggled to keep a badly battered Priest back, Almasry and Costas joined them.

"What in god's name is going on?" asked Mason as he and Raimus arrived at the spot, "Why were you fighting?"

"That man touched my ass!" shouted Aisha as she tried to break away of Mona's grip.

"You **fucking** lie!" roared Priest, his fangs bulging.

"Let me be!" Aisha demanded, "Let me have the bastard's head!"

"I wouldn't let you have my _head_ if you were the last woman on earth, sunshine!"

"Oh, goodness' sake." mumbled Raimus as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a pistol, raised it upward and fired twice. The sound of gunshot caught their attention, and made Priest and Aisha calm down a notch.

"This is a tight-knit, global-scale covert operation, this is not a schoolyard." said Raimus in a commanding manner fit for a military man of his caliber, "No one is to attack anyone else. No one is to _grope_ anyone else. If this matter persists, I will shoot all involved parties in the knees. Understood?"

Priest and Aisha simply glared at Raimus, said nothing and did not move as both were wrapped in the arms of others.

"Understood??"

"Yes." said Aisha, upon which Mona and Jenny loosened their hold.

"Yessir." said Priest in a near growl, then muttered a saucy Russian curse under his breath.

"Good." said Raimus as he turned around and walked away along with Mason, "As you were."

The crowd dispersed once more, Priest walked to the other side of the camp while Aisha remained with her group.

"They're getting restless," said Mason, "Much as Miss Wagner said."

"Quite. Do you think Nemo's plan is going to work?"

"It better."

* * *

_Hyde Park, London_

Mina walked up to the statue by serpentine lake, depicting a brutish man of immense stature in an evening suit. Beneath the hulk's bronze idol was a plaque that read _'Edward Hyde, 1835 - 1904'_, and there was some dull sentence that Mina barely gleaned, having read it before. The sentence was nothing of consequence, and though attributed to _Hyde_, he would never have said it, not that Hyde was a man of words. But then again, not even the statue was his.

The statue looked like an amalgamation of both sides of Henry Jekyll, the man who died so that England may soldier on. It looked like neither, not Henry nor Hyde. And after all, such a London landmark was Serpentine Park couldn't have a statue of a shirtless ape-man, could it?

"I miss you..." Mina whispered .

"I'm sorry I haven't been here... God, I haven't been here for three years. That was wrong; I was not fair to you... But that's the thing isn't it?" said Mina with a slight chuckle, "The reason that I'm here, visiting your so-called statue instead of your grave like any other widow... The reason you did what you did that awful day. You did it because you knew what I did; you knew what Tom and I were at behind your back. I'm sorry, Henry, if I was fair to you, we wouldn't be here... Our best years were taken away from us, because of me.

"Well, if it's any conciliation, life hasn't been too grand for me. I've come to some realizations in the past few days, about my place in the league, my place in life, my place in the world. My place in the grander scheme of things.

"I remember what you said once, that we were merely instruments of the Crown, not its citizens... I suppose your words are still true, I suppose I'm not really a part of the League, either. All these years, I thought I was achieving something... Well, I'm done being used. I've bled and served this organization since the very beginning and it only cost my everything I held dear. It's high time I took what's due."

Mina stepped toward the statue, placing down a red rose at the statue feet, then turned around and walked away, burying her hands into her coat's pockets before she changed, braking into a cluster of bats and flying into the infinite nigh.

"So long, my darling Henry."

* * *

_The Island_

Priest walked through the dark labyrinth of the jungle, brushing tree branches aside and going forward. A true predator, he was seeking something big and nasty to kill and dine on, much as he had done for the past few days. Perhaps bigger and nastier tha usual, to mend his wounded ego for having been beaten so soundly, by a girl no less, in that evening scrap. He stopped suddenly, and a split second later he could hear a twig being crushed, ten feet behind by the sound of it.

Priest turned around to look at who it was. With his superior sight, he could glimpse someone, a man wearing a high-tech looking set of goggles and holding something in his hands. Before Priest could recognize the gun, or make an attempt to flee or attack, his silent stalker had pulled the trigger twice in quick succession.

The shooter was no slouch marksman, his bullet hit its target, plunging into the vampire's non-beating heart and knocking him off of his feet.

As Priest lay there in the moonlight, groaning in pain, feeling the smooth touch of a snake as it slithered beneath his calf, he heard the sound of his stalker coming near him. Once he managed to stop wincing and open his eyes, the last thing he could see was a two-foot long wooden stake as it plunged toward his chest, Priest howled in agony as the stake penetrated him, broke through his chest, shattered his ribs, tore through his flesh and plunged into his heart. The stake pierced him all the way to the other side, coming out beneath him and pinning hi to the ground.

The stalker straightened up and looked at the predator that had become the pray, admiring his handwork. He tossed the silenced pistil aside.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** _Death of a Ladies Man._ The opposition deals with the loss of their deadliest member and realize the importance of finding the turncoat among them. Mona recounts her brief yet memorable friendship with Priest, recalling one _steamy_ encounter on one cold and lonely night in Liverpool. 


	7. The Fifth Columnist

**Now**

_The Island_

"What?" wondered the Stalker, as he stood above the corpse of Judas Priest, whom he had just shot twice and stake once in the heart, "Are you kidding me? Not only did I have to go traipsing through the jungle to kill your ass, I have to hide it too? Why don't you turn into a pile of dust like all other vampires do?"

The stalker took off his night-vision goggles and rubbed his eyes, "Pathetic. The legendary Judas Priest, who stole the spear of destiny back from the Nazis, who orchestrated the jail break of twenty-seven American prisoners out of a Siberian prison camp, who saw Josephine for who she is and lived to tell the tales dying like that; like any asshole walking around the jungle at night. I read your files, I thought you were an honest to god American badass. Hell, you just got beat up by a girl five hours ago. I was hoping for more of a fight."

The stalker leaned down, grabbed Priest by the heels and started dragging him away.

"Well, like my granny used to say; life's like a box of chocolate, you never know what you're gonna get."

* * *

**1968**

_Vietnam_

"I win, Jay." said Lieutenant Dan Taylor as he pulled the stacks of five dollar bills closer to himself.

"Whoop-de-do." said Lieutenant Judas Priest as he raised the bottle of bear to himself, "I'm out of beer."

"BLUE!" yelled Taylor, "BLUE! Get yer ass in here!"

A tall private entered the tent, saluted the Lieutenants and said in thick Alabaman accent, "Sir! Private Blue had to go to the bathroom, Sir!"

"Well, you're just gonna have to do, Gump." said Taylor, "Go get us a case of beer."

"And a can of brake fluid."

"What?" asked Gump.

"You heard the man, brake fluid and a case of beer! Now, git!"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" Gump shouted as he walked out.

"All right, Jay." said Taylor, "Why don't you tell me what's really killing you?"

"You know what's killing me, Dan." said Priest as he took off his cap and scratched the top of his head.

"Jay, I know that what you saw in My Lai wasn't easy to take." said Taylor, "But you should remember we're at war."

"This isn't the way we're supposed to be fighting, what happened was unredeemable and unjustifiable."

"I know, I agree, but shit happens. Those soldiers will be dealt with, Jay, there's a lot who aren't going to stand for this kind of thing."

"Sure, the GIs, the fucking idiot Joe Blows from Texas to Maryland are the ones that are gonna take the heat. They deserve it, but the real problem, the top brass that ordered it are gonna get away scot fucking free. This isn't the way we're supposed to be fighting, this isn't the American way." said Priest then sighed.

"You know I miss world war II." said Priest as he tossed his cards on the table.

"Jesus, Jay! You had a straight flush, you coulda cleaned me out?"

"Hmm? Oh, I did, How 'bout that?" said Priest as he reached for the cigarette pack on the table and took out a cigarette, stuck it in his lips and lit it with a wooden match.

"You know, I heard that the Duke himself, Mister John Wayne visited the sixth-sixth done south, handed every man a zippo lighter that had 'Fuck Communism' engraved on it." said Taylor as he started dealing a new hand, "What do you mean you miss world war two? My grandfather fought there, he died there; my uncles who came back said it was hell on earth."

"Clarity, Dan." said Priest as he buried his head in his hands, "We were the good guys, there's no question about that. We fought because we believed in what we're fighting for, against fascism, for mankind, because we believed that everyone, no matter the color of their hair or the creed of their forefathers deserved to live in dignity, free of oppression. What the hell are we fighting for? Say we drive the reds back, do you think this monarchy, this supposedly democratic monarch we're fighting is any better?"

Gump walked in with a quart of brake fluid and a case of beer that he placed by the table, he saluted overzealously and exited.

"We're soldiers, Lieutenant; it's not for us to decide."

"I'm sick of soldiering," said Priest, "When this whole thing blows over, I'm going into retirement, for good."

"Quit yammering." said Taylor as he opened two bottles and handed one to Priest, "Have a drink, play your hand. Bohica!"

"Bohica." said Priest with a depressed smile as he took a swig, "So, the Duke was here in this hell-hole?"

"Yeah, came in with a CIA guy called Leiter. The Duke is long gone, but Leiter arrived here this morning."

"Leiter, huh? I think I know him."

Private Gump walked back in, and was interrupted in the middle of his salute.

"Knock it off, Gump. What is it?"

"Phone call for Lieutenant Priest," said Gump, "From back home, boss."

"Bohica, huh?" asked Priest as he got up, "Bend over, here it comes again."

* * *

**Now**

_The Island_

The turncoat walked into Priest's tent, feeling elated for what he'd just achieved. Filled with hubris, he thought fit to celebrate his victory by drinking Priest's liquor. He leaned down to pick up a bottle of Vodka off of the floor, took the cap off and raised it to his lips and took one great gulp.

He spat it all out, finding the taste most unexpectedly vile, coerce and blunt. He tried to stifle his coughs, as to no alert anyone to his location. And stood there for a minute, waiting for his eyes to stop tearing and his head to stop turning.

"What the hell? This isn't Vodka!"

He took another minute to make sure he was back in form, and then stepped out of the tent, walking into the neighboring one. Talbot slept on the ground, his white beard spread on his pillow. Talbot seemed at peace, for he had not had such relative luxury in what felt like eons.

The stalker regretted discarding his gun, as it would have made the second kill just as easy. He cursed himself for his arrogance, but remained confident, as it was just one man of too many years.

He pulled the pillow from under Talbot's, and before the slumbering former prisoner could express surprise from being woken up so violently, he pressed the pillow to his face.

Talbot struggled to push the man away, but to no avail. His soon to be killer was far too young and strong and well trained for him to overcome. Soon, his jerking arms started to loose their might, reduced to mere flailing.

The turncoat was filled with sudden warmth in his body, which felt like holding hands with a beautiful girl on a hot summer evening. It was a sensation he often felt, every time he killed someone. Though with the nature of the current act of murder, it allowed him to relish in the moment longer than usual. As Talbot's writhing weakened beneath his hands, he smiled with sadistic bliss.

But suddenly, his joy was interrupted. The event was a blur, but the turncoat could remember the touch of icy cold fingers on the back of his neck, as someone seized his collar and pulled him b it, tearing him away from Talbot.

Next thing he knew, he had been flung ten feet out of the tent, he landed on his backside and rolled in the sand for a bit. Once stationary, he looked at the direction of the tent and saw someone coming towards him. Back inside the tent, Talbot had recovered, though his heart was racing. He lay on his cot looking upward, wide eyed, mumbling over and over, "Thank Christ...thank Christ..."

"The fuck?!!" the turncoat grunted as he got up.

"Pathetic?" barked Priest as he angrily stomped forward, the gaping wound in his chest having healed, though was still oozing, "Me? Pathetic?!"

"Well well, back from the dead for round two, huh?" said the turncoat as he stood up, "You're dead, motherfucker!"

The turncoat was fast with his fists, managing to strike Priest twice before his third was blocked, and he was hit in the jaw with a head-butt.

"Fuck..." cursed the turncoat as he spat out a tooth.

"I knew your father in 'Nam, Gump." said Priest, "Nice guy, and just like you, he wasn't very bright. But he didn't think his shit was hotter than it was, like you do."

Forrest Gump Jr. flew into a berserker rage and lunged at Priest, hitting him in the heart, reopening his wound, and followed with a spinning kick to his head as he reeled back. He aimed a chop to the side of the neck, stunning Priest and forcing him to go down on one knee.

"I ran a piece of wood through you heart, why the hell aren't you dead?" asked Gump through gritted teeth as he attempted to kick the vampire in the neck, in an effort to break it.

"Don't believe everything you see in the movies." said Priest as he caught Gump's foot, and then swept the other leg with a kick, knocking him off his feat.

"Or everything you read in dossiers that Nemo leaves for you to conveniently find." followed Priest as he got up to his feet.

"What?" asked Gump as he jumped up to his feet, and aimed the strongest punch he could at Priest's throat.

"It was a set-up;" Priest said as he caught Gumps' wrist inches away from his throat, "Talbot, the dossiers, that fight this evening... It was all to flush you out."

Priest pulled his arm, whipped him and spinning so that he forced Gump into an unenviable position as he was standing in front of Priest with his arm being violently twisted behind him. Nearby, Talbot had exited his tent and was watching the ensuing fight.

"I think it's about time _**everyone**_ found out the truth about you, how do you think we should wake everybody up?"

With one merciless, sudden move, Priest pulled Gump's arm, ripping it out of the socket.

Gump screamed bloody murder as the searing pain from his dislocated shoulder filled every single fiber in him. He screamed and screamed, loud enough for the entire camp to wake up and exit their tents to see what was going on.

"Much obliged, Forrest." Priest whispered into Gump's ear, "You can shut up, now."

* * *

I see no one was followed with last chapter's ending. Although I will admit that I made it pretty obvious when I claimed Mona and Priest had a steamy encounter. R&R.

**Next Chapter:** _Fallen from Grace. _The testimony of Forrest Gump Jr. And then we learn that something trivial that one of the opposition had previously done had dire consequences.


	8. Fallen from Grace

**Now**

_The Island_

The whole comp was up and out, their slumber interrupted by the yells of Forrest Gump Jr., at last revealed to be the League's agent within the opposition. Within five minutes, the turncoat was under guard, and the four Captains were on the spot to officiate. Priest's tent had been seized by Sayid and Barnes, where they set to work interrogating Gump, in the most violent sense of the word.

In the medical tent, Priest's wounds were being tended to by Doctor Robert while Mona and O'Brien looked on and listened as Priest explained everything.

"Nemo thought that the League's operative would try and take out MacGuffin, or Talbot or whoever the fuck that guy is. Nemo also figured that would be the best chance at flushing him out. So, he has MacGuffin brought to the tent next to mine, leading the mole to think that to take MacGuffin out, he'd have to eliminate me first, since I wasn't the guy you wanted next door while you were carrying out an assassination. The plan was that I would take out the guy as soon as he tried to go after me."

"And why didn't you?" asked Mona.

"Because... Ow! Oy, watch it!"

"Shut it, you big baby." said Doctor Robert.

"Prick. Anyway, the guy was better than I thought, plus he had a gun and nigh-vision. Luckily, Nemo did his prep, he kept a dossier on me laying around in his office, a fake one, it was less than accurate in listing my weaknesses. It said that I could be killed by a stake through the heart, which isn't true, not unless it was made of silver."

"And the fight on the beach, with Aisha?"

"Did you notice how I got my ass handed kicked? I took a dive, so that I would look un-intimidating to whoever the Agent was, so that they'd hurry up and attack me already. Of course, Aisha beat a few more shades of shit out of me than I had initially bargained for. Damn, that girl can hit!"

"So, she was in on it?"

"No."

"Then...You really **did** grab her ass?" asked O'Brien.

"Well, I had to, didn't I?"

* * *

Mason and Barbossa listened to the blunt sounds of battery and torture as Barnes and Sayid had their way with Gump.

"Do you think he'll talk?" asked Barbossa.

"Everyone talks." said Mason as he smoked his pipe.

"You didn't."

"Well, I'm a hard case. And I wasn't in the kind of shoes he's in right now."

* * *

**One and a half days Later**

"He's a special agent with the Gotham branch of the League," explained Barnes to Jenny and the four Captains, while Sayid stood at his side, wiping the blood from his hands, "He was recruited in M.I.T. years ago, they trained him and covered up his history, so that it looked like nothing had happened. They then let him loose, so that he could establish a reputation as a noted computer cracker, at the same time he caught up with Will Hunting, whom he knew since college, to get his foot in the door. It took a few months until we recruited him, the rest is history. Gump did some sabotage, tipped the league off every time he got knowledge of a significant operation."

"We recruited him over a year ago, how is it that nothing had ever happened?" asked Mason.

"The League wanted the four of you, so that the opposition would be rid of for good. He never got all the intel they needed at the same time, so they just waited."

"How?" asked Barbossa.

"Gump and Hunting provided system-support for the intelligence wing," explained Sayid, "He planted software in their computers that would intercept certain messages and communiqués and store them in a hidden directory within the computer system."

"Exactly." said Barnes.

"That's how they must have found the Gotham cell that came before Sax and Priest." said Mason.

"And the Korean cell, both which communicate with the Yellow Submarine." said Nemo, "I'll have to reboot my systems."

"Are we certain that he's the only one?" asked Raimus.

"We're as certain as we can get." said Sayid, "The only reason the League has attacked now is that they learned we were close to locating MacGuffin. They needed to shut us down instantly, so they had to risk failure and wasting years of undercover work."

"What's he doing now?"

"He's with Priest and Lucy. She's reading him."

"Did he tell you exactly **how** he managed to find what we were looking for?" asked Nemo.

"Yes, he did." said Barnes, "He said that Sands gathered them all one day and told them what to look for."

"That's impossible!" said Nemo as he got up and walked out of Barbossa's tent. The other six followed him.

"Why is that impossible, Hector?" asked Jenny.

"Because Sands only told his people to look for MacGuffin only **after** he knew that the League knew that we were after MacGuffin." explained Barbossa, "We knew that the League had twigged when he found out about the death of Tom Vercetti, one in the line of people that Mister Sax and Miss Priest had questioned in pursuing MacGuffin. The assassination was the work of a professional, using a weapon that the League uses when resorting to such urban assassinations."

* * *

"What is it?" asked Priest as he stood crossing his arms on his chest that was healed by now, While Lucy leaned over Gump, who sat battered, bloodied, bruised and bound to the chair that he sat on, his head hanging limply on his chest.

"It's amazing," said Lucy, "Unlike Talbot, he doesn't have a psychic barrier, but some kind of psychic repellent."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like... I can read him if I want, but when I'm around him I feel... uncompelled, and slightly distorted. Come to think of it, I don't remember reading him before."

"What about now?"

"I can read him, he's told Robert and Sayid the truth... He feels angry, he craves vengeance... He doesn't like you very much."

"I'm not too crazy about **it**, either." growled Priest.

Nemo, Raimus, Mason and Barbossa walked in.

"He's telling the truth, Nemo." said Lucy.

"Good," said Nemo, "Now get out, both of you."

The two of them obeyed the rather rude request and got out, where a crowd had gathered. Mona, Gaum-Ja, Shaun, Costas, the Cairo cell, the saints, Dr. Robert, Sgt. Pepper, Eel O'Brien and a few others.

Inside, the four captain encircled Gump.

"Get up." said Barbossa.

Gump's head remained limply hanging, so Barbossa pulled it up by the hair and gave him a slap that woke him up.

"Oh fuck... Just shoot me and get it over with." said Gump with an extremely tired voice, raw from screaming, distorted from missing teeth and a bruised tongue.

"How did you learn we were seeking MacGuffin?" asked Mason.

"Sands told us. Got us all in his apartment, the intelligencers... made a big speech about that being the moment of truth and shit. Told us to dig up all we could on a Cayman islands bank account, the name Oliver Warren and cross-reference everything with the name MacGuffin."

"Sands wouldn't tell you anything about MacGuffin unless he knew the League already knew." said Nemo.

"They didn't. Sands fucked up."

"No, they killed a man who had aided MacGuffin, shortly after we had questioned him. They knew we were getting close and so ordered a strike."

"I don't know what you're talking about, but that's the way it went down."

The four captains exchanged a look.

"Forrest Gump, you have betrayed us." said Raimus, "Thirty of our men are now dead, not to mention an innocent woman who was not in anyway associated with the opposition. The punishment for your treachery is death."

"Oh, cry me a river, _Ivan_!" scoffed Gump, "All of you can go to hell. I might have spilled my guts, I might be a dead man, but that still doesn't mean you've accomplished anything. **What have the four of you, or any of the men and women you have in your hire ever did to make this world a better place, huh?**

"Judas Priest, that asshole in your employ has killed three of his superiors and amputated an Intelligence agent's leg in Vietnam! That's why the hell he went AWOL! The Iraqi guy that broke my fingers tortured dozens upon dozens of Shiite civilians when he was with the national guard! How about you, Barbossa? What kind of shit did **you** get up to in your pirating days? How many towns have you pillaged, how many women have you raped? Are you trying to tell me that any of you are better than us?"

"Yes," said Mason, "We are. In our fight against you, we have never harmed the innocent to pursue our own goals! The League can not make the same claim."

"Big whoop." said Gump, the ferocity of his voice rekindled by his rage, "So the League murders a thousand, but it does so so that a million others will go to sleep a week later with something in their bellies. The League will create a civil war to weed out the hard-cases and the extremists so that a country has a chance at lasting for another decade or two..."

"It is not up to the League to use such unquestionably devious methods!"

"Yes it is, Nemo. Face it, you four, Mankind are weak, greedy and barbarous by nature, they need someone to give them a kick in the pants once in a while, so that they don't burn the whole world down. So that there will be no more Big Brothers or Adenoid Hynkels.

"The four of you can run all around the world, playing with your little submarines and little cells, playing war against the League. You can't win. There are less than three-hundred of you, including the crews of the three submarines, but the League numbers over a million, they control everyone else with power. Even if by some fantastical way you manage to win, all you will have succeeded in doing is putting a stop to the only thing in this world that still does a damn for mankind."

"Mister Almasry," called Raimus, "You are needed."

"Go ahead, let your button man shoot me." said Gump with a stiff upper lip, "I'll go to my maker with a clear conscience. I will leave you to your doomed, petty vendetta."

"You're going to hell." said Nemo as Almasry, the elderly Egyptian assassin entered.

"Don't worry, Captain. I'll be sure to give the Devil your thank-."

Almasry shot Gump in the chest, the chair and the body fell backward. Gump was dead.

Hearing the gunshot, the crowd outside shuddered. Hunting walked away from the crowd toward his own tent, angrily mumbling to himself. As Almasry and the four Captains walked out, two crewmen from the Black Pearl got in to remove the body. The surrounding crowd parted to make way for the four.

"Nemo." said Priest, but got no one's attention.

"There's someone else." said Nemo, "Someone else on this island is a traitor."

"Lucy read everybody-" said Barbossa before he was interrupted.

"She read everybody, but some could not be read, just like Talbot. One of them is a traitor."

"Nemo, calm down."

"Someone told the League we were looking for MacGuffin before Gump did." said Nemo loudly, "That's how they killed Tom Vercetti before Gump learned. I want that person found!"

"Nemo." said Priest.

"You don't believe what he said, do you?" asked Barbossa.

"He told us everything! Why would he lie?"

"To mess with your head."

"Jack, I don't..."

"Nemo." said Priest for a third time, loudly and firmly.

"Priest, can't this wait?" Nemo barked.

"No, it can't." said Priest, "There's something you have to know."

"What is it?"

Priest hesitated for a second.

"There was no one else," he said, "And if there is, then they weren't the ones who told the League about Vercetti."

"How do you know that?" asked Raimus.

"Because it wasn't the League that killed Vercetti." said Priest, "It was me. I killed Vercetti."

A cold, stunned, silence befell them. Nemo's dark eyes glimmered as he looked upon Priest, who scowled as he hung his head, at a loss for words.

"You...You killed him?" asked Nemo in disbelief.

"Yeah."

"Thirty-one people are dead, because the League knew we were about to capture MacGuffin. The League knew that because Sands told their agent. Sands did so because eh thought the League knew."

"Nemo.."

"Sands made that assumption only after learning that Vercetti had been killed, in a manner fitting that of the League."

"Nemo, don't loose your calm." said Mason quietly.

"Priest, thirty-one people are dead, because of **you!**"

Priest raised a hand, ostensibly to scratch his forehead but meaning to avoid Nemo's eyes.

"I'm...I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" asked Nemo with disbelief.

Raimus put a hand on Nemo's shoulder.

"Nemo, don't do anything you'll..."

Faster than anyone can notice, Nemo reached into Raimus's coat, where he knew Raimus kept a holstered gun. He pulled the pistol out and aimed it.

All eyes widened in the second before Nemo pulled the trigger. None was more surprised than Priest himself.

The shot was fired, and Priest fell to the ground, blood pouring from a hole in his throat.

* * *

The infiltrator may have been denounced and disposed of, but with this new revelation, life on the island isn't going to get any more relaxed.

**Next Chapter:** Everybody hates Judas. Shaun signs up for a new class.


	9. Everybody Hates Judas

**Now**

_The Island_

"I'm in Dubai." said Mernae, talking to Mason through Nemo's console, "I've managed to wrangle an appointment with al-Sheikh. Hopefully I'll be able to convince him to meet with the rest of you."

"That's excellent work, Mernae."

"So...Is the opposition de-moled? All the League spies out?"

"Yes, we're secure."

"That's good to know. I'll contact you as soon as I get al-Sheikh's approval. Bye."

"Goodbye."

Mason turned the consol off, then turned around to look upon Nemo, who was reading an old book as the two of them sat in the Bridge of the Yellow Submarine.

"I'm sure Mernae will be able to get us an audience with Naif al-Sheikh, don't worry."

"I'm not." said Nemo calmly.

"Nemo, we have to talk about what happened last night."

"Priest is extremely hard to kill." said Nemo just as calm, never taking his eyes off his book, "Once, in Gotham, he was at shot by a dozen SWAT members armed with machine guns and he survived. A wounded neck is nothing to worry about."

"That doesn't change the fact that you shot one of our own men in the neck! I mean we all agree that what he did was indeed terrible, and we all despise him for it. But surely his intent was not to hurt us."

"He's not one of us. He's a soldier of fortune; he does what we tell him because he's getting paid. He told you that himself."

"Yes, and I'm inclined to attribute that to his ego."

"As you wish. I for one, want nothing to do with him."

"He's proved to be a very capable man, even though he made grievous mistakes. But he's still of use."

"He attacked his own men in Vietnam and fled to avoid punishment. Judas Priest is a man ruled by his impulses. If you want him you can have him, and you may ask Raimus or Barbossa to give him passage. Do whatever you want with him. I will simply not have him in my ship."

"If that's what you want." said Mason, "Look, to make sure we got rid of everyone, we've decided to check who had psychic blocks. Lucy said it was George Costas, Eel O'Brien, Dr. Robert, a few of Barbossa's crewmen, and Bruno, one of your crewmen."

"Dr. Robert I trust, I expect Barbossa trusts Mr. Costas enough. We'll let Raimus decide about O'Brien, we'll get rid of everyone, just to be safe."

"My thoughts exactly. However, there's the matter of Priest. You see, Lucy had read him once before and lost consciousness. She refuses to do it again. She says it might be a result of his nature as a vampire, but she isn't sure."

Nemo looked up from his book for a second.

"As much as I'd like to be rid of Priest, I don't believe he could working for the League."

"Me neither." said Mason as he got up, "Think about what I said, Nemo."

* * *

Priest stood by Lucy's tent, wearing a helmet to keep the sun away.

"Come in." Lucy invited him in.

"Funny, I didn't say anything." said Priest as he walked in, Lucy was boiling water, and apparently in the process of making a cup of something.

"I'm psychic, remember." said Lucy, "Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"Why not?" said Priest as he took his helmet off and sat on the ground.

"How's your neck?" asked Lucy, pointing at the gauze wrapped around his throat.

"All better." said Priest, "The bandage is still on because it keeps the sun out."

"I'm glad you're, okay?" said Lucy as she handed him a cup of hot chocolate and then started preparing her own, "What can I do for you?"

"I have a question."

"I'm listening."

Priest took a sip of the chocolate, the lowered his head.

"Everybody hates me, don't they?"

"Yes." said Lucy matter-of-factly as she sat down on her chair with her mug in her hand, "Well, not everyone. And hate might a strong word."

"Shit..." said Priest as he took another sip.  
"Some don't, believe it or not."

"Like who?"

"Your friend, Mona."

"Who else?"

"The Irish brothers. Talbot. The captains, except for Nemo of course. Shaun..."

"Shaun? Shaun doesn't hate me?!"

"No, he doesn't."

"But...Shit, this makes no sense."

Lucy quietly drank her chocolate, as did Priest.

"Well, thanks for the chocolate."

"You're welcome, Judas."

"Are you calling me Judas because that's my first name," asked Priest, "Or do you feel betrayed, like everyone else?"

"What you've done has no effect on what I think of you." said Lucy, "I tried to read you twice, both times I became sick. I told Mason that it was merely because you're a vampire, but that's not it. It's what's in you, all those intense emotions; the sorrow, the self-loathing, the guilt, the wrath, the regret. What seems like centuries' worth of bad karma."

Priest looked deep into Lucy's cobalt blue eyes before putting on his helmet and standing up.

"Thanks for the chocolate." he said as he walked out.

* * *

"Miss Watts has managed to set up a meeting with Naif al-Sheikh," said Mason as he and the other three captains as well as Jenny stood on the beach, "But we need to head to Dubai soon in order to convince him to help us."

"We'll take the Red October." said Raimus, "It's not as fast as the Black Pearl, but it has the necessary stealth. One of us will have to remain on the island to keep an eye on everyone."

"I'll remain," said Barbossa, "Jenny can take my place. That is if you don't mind, love."

"No, I'm fine with it, Hector."

"It's settled, then." said Nemo, "We leave now."

* * *

Priest watched as he sat on the beach, as the Red October submerged beneath the waters, just as the sun sank bellow the horizon. He took off his helmet, then angrily hurled it into the ocean.

"Hey," said Shaun, "Mind if I join you?"

"...Suit yourself."

Shaun sat down next to Priest, stretching his legs before him and watching the twilight sky.

"How can you find it in my heart not to hate me?" asked Priest, "I'm the reason you're here, I'm the reason Liz was..."

Priest couldn't continue, he just winced and hung his head.

"Priest, it is because of Liz that I don't blame you for what you did." said Shaun, "Mona told me why you killed that Vercetti bloke. She told me all about Sophie..."

"Sophia."

"Sophia, right. You killed the man who killed the woman you loved. I understand that perfectly. I wouldn't have done anything different if I were in your shoes. Ironic, really."

"That...Thanks, Shaun. Listen, whatever you want, whenever you want it, all you have to do is ask. If it is in my power, it's yours."

"Mona's been teaching me how to shoot." said Shaun.

"I heard. How is it going?"

"I'm getting better. Priest, I want you to teach me."

"Teach you what?"

"How to fight."

"Shaun, come on."

"I've been in plenty of scraps in my life, bar fights mostly. But I couldn't put much of a fight against those bastards that got Liz."

"Those cunts were trained, Shaun."

"Exactly. And so are you."

"To what purpose?" asked Priest as he got up.

"I've no place to go, Jude." said Shaun as he followed Priest, "The League destroyed everything I ever cared about. I'm not going to stand idly by while people with less of a reason do the fighting."

"Shaun, be reasonable. The people we'd be going against have years of training and practice. I couldn't teach you enough in a few weeks, or a few months even. What kind of edge would you have?"

"I've got nothing to loose."

"You're emotional. Emotions tend to get people killed in this business."

"Oh, look whose talking!"

"Shaun," said Priest with a grunt as he quickened his pace, "I've done horrible things in my life. I don't need you getting hurt or killed, which is more likely, to weigh on my conscience."

"You owe me, Priest! You bloody owe me!"

Priest slowed down, before he stopped and looked a hundred feet away at the southern edge of the camp. He turned around and walked back toward Shaun, stopping as he was three feet away. He then kicked Shaun in the groin.

"Okay, Shaun if that's what you want." said Priest as Shaun lay curled up, moaning in pain .

"I'll teach you how to fight, I'll teach you how to duke it out with the worst of them. I'll make a five foot-nine merciless arse-kicking machine out of you. I'll teach you all my secrets. I'll tell you how to make quivering, whimpering things out of men twice you size. I'll teach you how paralyze a man with a pencil and the fine art of head-butting."

"UGHHHHH!"

"You will have no doubt noticed that I just kicked you in the balls. Although that seems at first glance like me being a wanker is actually me teaching you two valuable lessons, now listen carefully, since I don't think you want me to kick you again. Lesson number one is trust no one. Expect anything, from everyone, at any given time."

"Jesus Christ!" Shaun groaned, "My balls..."

"Lesson number two; fight dirty, if you want to win, then cheat. Cheat like crazy."

* * *

_The Red October_

"We'll be there tomorrow, at one a.m., Dubai's time." said Raimus as her, Jenny, Nemo and Barbossa, "We'll spend the night here and meet al-Sheikh in the following morning."

"Who is this man?" asked Jenny.

"Al-Sheikh used to run the Saudi Arabian secret service." explained Mason, "He resigned a few years ago, when the Saudi government virtually allowed the League to run their secret service for them. He's among the top experts in intelligence gathering and black ops, with decades of experience and a network of contacts. Raimus, you've probably heard of him during the afghan-soviet war, he worked with the CIA those days, arming and training the mujahedeen. Ever since cutting his ties to his government he has been self-employed as an independent intelligence consultant, and on at least two occasions has he refused a lucrative offer to assume a high-ranking position in the League."

"Sounds too good for us, Jack." said Jenny, "What do you think he'd agree to help us."

" Al-Sheikh never trusted the League and never liked his superiors' long standing bonds of cooperation with them, represented in Yusuf al-Kherish, director of the Cairo branch, which is the center of the League's operations in the Middle East. Also, I believe he has personal reasons that make him resentful."

All this time, Nemo had remained quiet and seemed to be distant. Jenny caught attention of this and asked,

"Nemo, are you alright? You seem troubled, dear."

Nemo acted like he didn't hear anything for a few moments, then turned to his compatriots and said,

"Several months ago, when Priest and Miss Sax were working for me as my agents in Gotham, their first assignment was to intercept and capture a ship filled with Korean illegal immigrants, bound for a life of poverty and servitude in the United States.

"But I didn't do it because it was the right thing to do. I did it because one of those immigrants had vital information, and do you know what? If that woman wasn't there, I wouldn't have bothered at all."

"What's your point?" asked Raimus.

"Its something that Gump said..."

"Gump?" asked Mason, "The little cretin who betrayed us and almost had us all killed?"

"...He said that we didn't do anything to make the world a better place to live, and that we only aimed to topple the League, who, at the end of the day, are the only ones doing anything to help anyone."

"You can't be taking what he said seriously!"

"Look, I know the League must be stopped, and I will spare nothing of my body or my coin in stopping them... It's just that I'm starting to think that perhaps what we're doing isn't enough, perhaps we should be trying to save people instead of trying to stop the League from damning them."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Shaun's education continues at the hands of Prof. Priest and Prof. Sax. While the foursome of Jenny, Raimus, Nemo and Mason arrive in Dubai to barter an agreement with one of the world's most formidable spies.


	10. The Man with all the Answers

**Now**

_The Island_

"Alright, Shaun," said Priest as he walked in a large oval, encircling Shaun and Mona who were standing facing each other, "Go ahead."

"Jude, you're being ridicules!" said Shaun.

"Oh, am I?" asked Priest with a chuckle.

"I...I can't hit Mona! Why can't I try and hit you?"

"Why can't you hit Mona?"

"I just can't, okay? She's a friend!"

"Aww!" said Mona with a smile, "Thanks, Shaun!"

"And I'm not?" asked Priest.

"Of course you are, but you can take it!"

"What," asked Mona, "Because I'm a woman, I can't?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I think that's exactly what you mean." Said Priest, "You have serious issues, man."

"Look, what's the point of this?"

"Before you learn the technique," said Priest as he stopped behind Mona, placing his hands on her shoulders to her slight , "You have to gain the mindset. You have to learn to fight anyone. And if you can find it in you to fight a pretty little girl like Mona, you can find it in you to fight anyone."

"Did you just call me a little girl?" asked Mona.

"Yes, yes I did." said Priest as he stepped back, "And I know you're only pretending to be offended to mask your being embarrassed for me calling you pretty. Now, you either try to knock Mona out or you can forget about us teaching you anything."

Shaun hesitated for a moment, but then lunged at Mona with a punch. Mona ducked and with spinning kick she knocked Shaun off his feet and onto his back.

"Wow. You actually did it!" said Priest as he and Mona stood by the fallen Shaun, "You went and attacked a smaller person, a woman no less, your friend for fuck's sake!"

"I think I landed on a rock..." said Shaun with a grunt as he tried to get up.

"Well, that's lesson number three over and done with. Time for lesson number four."

"What's lesson number four?" asked Mona.

"Shaun is going to loose all fear of physical punishment."

"What does that mean?" asked Shaun as he brushed the sand off his clothes.

"It means we are going to gently, but surely beat you up until it stops bothering you."

"What?" asked Shaun.

"What?!" asked Mona.

"Welcome to the house of pain."

* * *

**One Day Later**

_Dubai, U.A.E._

Mernae Watts walked up to the group of four as they arrived in the lobby of _Burj al-Arab_, Dubai's tallest building and one of the world's most exquisite and expensive hotels.

"Hello, Jack." she said as she hugged Mason, "Um, I mean Mr. Mason."

"Hello, Mernae. And you may call me Jack." said Mason fondly as wrapped his arms around Mernae.

"My friends," said Mason, "This is my right-hand woman, Mernae Hannah Watts."

"Hello." said Mernae with a slight gigle as she shook hands with Jenny, unable to contain her excitement at meeting the people she's only heard about.

"Hi." said Jenny, "Thanks for your help."

"This is Miss Jenny Diver, standing in for Captain Barbossa." said Mason, "She's his partner for eighty years. This is Captain Marko Raimus and Captain Nemo."

Mernae shook hands with the other two who responded warmly and commended her competence.

"Okay, umm, al-Sheikh is waiting." said Mernae as she led the way to the elevator, "I guess we better get going."

* * *

Naif al-Sheikh was a man of his fifties, olive skinned, thin and of average height. His hair was black and cropped shortly and had a neatly trimmed goatee. He had an intimidating, mysterious presence, capable of simultaneously inspiring uneasiness and confidence. He seemed to be the kind of person who rarely ever lost his cool, ruled by quiet reflection and could no longer be surprised.

He received them in the hall of his suite in one of the upper floors, where he wore a black galabiya and traditional Arabian head-dress.

"Mister al-Sheikh," said Mernae, "These are the people I told you of. Miss Jenny Diver, who is representing Hector Barbossa, Captain Nemo, Marko Raimus and John Patrick Mason."

"You may call me Jack," said Mason, "And I would like to thank you on behalf of all of us for agreeing to see us."

"If it's the same to you, I think I will call you Mr. Mason for the time being." said al-Sheikh, "And you will find that you should thank your assistant rather than myself, she is a most persuasive woman."

"That she is." said Mason.

Al-Sheikh skope with a slightly accented, yet impecabe and well-annunciated English. His voice was tired weary and tinged with practiced cynicism. His demeanor was undeniably cold and it was evident that he wasn't too thrilled to meet these guests.

"Please," said al-Sheikh as he gestured toward a seating area on the other side of his suite, "Make yourselves comfortable while I order some tea."

The four went and sat, while al-Sheikh picked up the phone and spoke with room-service in Arabic. Once he was done, he went and joined them sitting at the farthest position from any of them. It was a psychological tactic used in negotiations, and as thus it became apparent what extraordinary man al-Sheikh was.

"Now, how may I be able to be of service?" asked al-Sheikh.

"Are you aware of what's transpired recently in the war between the League and us, the opposition?" asked Mason.

"No, I am not."

"We were ambushed, one of our own betrayed us." explained Mason, "Several of us, nearly thirty good men and women were killed or detained."

"I'm sorry for your loss." said al-Sheikh as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver cigarette holder, "I hope you don't mind if I smoke. Do any of you feel like one?"

"No."

"No, thank you."

"Well," said al-Sheikh while he opened the case, took out a cigarette and stuck it between his lips, then lit it with a golden lighter, "It is never easy to loose one's own men."

"That's why were here," said Nemo, "Our entire intelligence network is damaged. We could rebuild it, but that would take too long. We need to be operational again as soon as possible."

"Why the hurry?"

"We have been getting some intelligence about a certain project. This project is designed, funded and run by the League. Top-level classified. It is underway as we speak, and we believe that it is of dire proportions, possibly on a continental scale."

"What is this Project?" asked al-Sheikh as he puffed a cloud of smoke.

"It's called Phoenix. Have you ever heard of it?"

"Oh, I have my connections, but all I hear is whispers. And of what I hear it is indeed on a massive scale. So, tell me, what do you know about it?""

"So far we've learned it involves a new designer drug and possibly a war in East Asia."

"And you have no other leads?"

"Our only two was one of our men who went rogue and tried to pursue the matter independently, once we got to him we found him to be profoundly mad." said Raimus, "All he could manage to tell us is that the world would end in five years."

"Four, actually." said Mason, "That was last year. Our other lead was Gideon MacGuffin, a man who is rumored to have designed the first draft before difference with James Bond, who as you know runs the league, forced him to flee and fake his death.

"We eventually tracked down a man we believed to be MacGuffin, but it wasn't really him."

"I understand." said al-Sheikh as he took a drag of smoke, "And you want me to rebuild your network. Correct?"

"We would like you to run it," said Mason, "Or at least oversee it."

"I am deeply flattered," said al-Sheikh with a smile that was more cynical than warm, "But no."

The four delegates of the opposition were surprised to hear al-Sheikh refuse so fast.

"You all look shocked, dearest guests." said al-Sheikh, "Were you counting on me to join your cause?"

"Um.. Mister al-Sheikh, Colonel..."

"My reputation precedes me," said al-Sheikh as he put out his cigarette in a crystal extinguisher, "I assume that you wagered that merely because I have so far refused working for the League, that I am automatically willing to work with you lot. If that is so, then you've wagered wrong.

"The fact is, there's a third camp, with those who wish to remain out of this conflict going on between your guilds. I find myself pleased to be of this third camp and do not wish to change that anytime soon.."

"Al-Sheikh," Nemo said with a raised voice, "Surely you must agree that the League have been doing great atrocities over the years."

"Yes, yes they have. And sadly, the world is likely cease to exist without them."

"What," asked Jenny, "And you're willing to take it because you can't take the risk?"

"It is quite risk, Madam."

"The world will eventually die out because of them!"

"All you have to prove that is the ramblings of a mad-man. The league may be a chimera, but it is a chimera we can survive, one day at a time, and in any event, you are not the Bellerophon."

"So you're saying that as long as the world keeps spinning, you don't care how many people are killed..."

"Jenny, calm down." said Mason, but Jenny ignored him as she went on.

"...how many people get killed, because the League sees it fit? Have you no regard for human life?"

"Do not take the moral high ground with me, woman." said al-Sheikh, his voice rising, his brown eyes widening with contained anger. Al-Sheikh got up and took out another cigarette, then walked to the window and looked out at the blue waters of the Arabian gulf.

"Do any of you know the full extent of my reasons for no working for the League? It isn't just because I am aware of the sheer immorality of their methods, of their mere being. It isn't just that."

Al-Sheikh lit his cigarette and flicked the lighter shut, setting it on the window's ledge.

"I was married once, you know. Her name was Miriam." said al-Sheikh, the tone of his voice changing somewhat to reflect a less cold demeanor as he seemed to be in the process of recollecting some fond memories.

"She was a Lebanese student of international law in London, back then I was getting my masters from Cambridge. She was a feminist, a social activist; by all means a truly troublesome woman... and I loved her.

"She was killed three years into our marriage, she was pregnant with our first child." said al-Sheikh, the tone of his voice changing to its former coldness, "She was killed by a superhuman Agent of the League, a man called Wolfwood. Do not, I repeat, do not accuse me for **one second** of callousness or disregard for human life, I care, I care deeply."

Al-Sheikh walked away from the window.

"But the fact of the matter is, when one is in our line of work, one must learn to see the big picture. And the big picture is, despite all the League's villainies, I cannot aid you in defeating the single largest intelligence agency in the world and expect a survivable tomorrow at the same time, and I wouldn't do it in the least for the sake of some ambiguous conspiracy theory."

There was a knock on the door, and someone announcing that room service had arrived.

"Finally." said al-Sheikh with one of his, "I hope you will allow me the honor of sharing a cup of tea before you will be on your way."

The door opened and a waiter entered, pushing a cart with a tea-set of exquisite china. However, there was someone else that followed.

"Hello." said the visitor. The waiter turned around to see the man, and appeared to be just a surprised as everyone else.

"Friend of yours?" asked al-Sheikh as he gestured at the man.

"Not exactly." said Nemo as he got a good look at the visitor, "Tallbot?"

Talbot had changed, the once frail and frightened man stood before them in confidence. He wore an expensive three-piece black suit and a silk tie. His scraggily beard was trimmed neatly and his long hair had been cut to shoulder length and tied neatly into a ponytail. He seemed like an entirely different person, and not only because of his improved appearance, bout for the manner in which he behaved, so full of pride, confidence and dignity. They even couldn't help but notice that he was much taller than they had initially perceived.

"But how?"

"I stowed away on your submarine, once you had docked, I slipped out and got around to making some calls and visit a barber."

Even the way he talked had changed. He was eloquent and spoke with an almost mesmerizing voice, he still talked with a Scottish accent, but it was not the same brogue from before.

"Who are you, then?" asked al-Sheikh as he took a drag of his cigarette.

"Isn't it obvious?" asked _Talbot_,

"I'm **Sir Gideon Jacob MacGuffin**, at your service."

* * *

R&R. So, how do you like al-Sheikh?

**Next Chapter:** _Bold New World._ School is gets tougher for Shaun, but more importantly, the man who thought up Project Phoenix is about to explain what it is. This is the mother load, people, if you've read everything so far then stopping now will make no sense. NO SENSE!


	11. Bold New World

**Now**

_The Island_

"That's amazing." said Priest through his helmet, as he watched Mona punching Shaun in the face time and time again, each time Shaun didn't try to avoid it, he didn't even flinch as he saw Mona's fist coming, he just too it and staggered back, or sometimes fell, and when he did he would get up and wait for the next one.

"What is?" asked Sayid as he stood at Priest's side.

"I just started with him three days ago; already he's learned what it takes others months to learn."

"What the hell did you teach him?" asked Sayid, "How to get hit in the face?"

"Exactly. Once he's all properly got the mindset I'm going to start teaching him the actual fighting."

"A peculiar method if you ask me, did government training use to be like that in your day?"

"It wasn't the government that taught me, it was an old evil bastard called Abraxas."

Shaun fell to the ground, collapsed like a sack of bricks on the sand and didn't seem to be about to get up anytime soon. Sayid shook his head and started walking away.

"Priest, I think Shaun's had enough." said Mona as she nursed her hand, "And my hand is _killing_ me."

"Alright, we'll carry him to your tent and let him sleep it off. When he waked up and the swelling goes down, we'll start again."

"No," said Mona as she picked Shaun up by the feet, "When he wakes up and the swelling goes down, he's going to continue target practice."

"Fine, how's that going anyway?" asked Priest as he picked Shaun up by the arms.

"He's doing okay. He's starting to get comfortable with the grip of a gun."

"We'll have to work out a system," said Priest, "Maybe I can have evenings and you can have him for the afternoon?"

"Sounds reasonable."

* * *

_Dubai, U.A.E._

"I watched from a slit in the side of Priest's tent as you had the man who tried to kill me killed." said MacGuffin, "Up until that point I was convinced that my jail break and the entire island was merely set up to get me to confess y true identity."

Jenny, Nemo, Raimus, Mason and MacGuffin were sitting and drinking tea while al-Sheikh, the suite's resident stood by the window and smoked as he quietly sized up MacGuffin.

"I wasn't sure, though. The League had shape-shifters in their employ, skilled impersonators and Bond would spare nothing for the peace of mind that would come with knowing that he had me for good. And so, when I had heard that you were sailing away, I knew this may be my only chance to escape and learn who all of you really were. So I swam to the submarine, and hid in the cargo hold until I sensed that enough time had elapsed and I emerged. Exiting the submarine, I swam to the shore and after an hour of pick pocketing drunken tourists, managed to get myself looking presentable as I am right now. I made a few calls first, to contacts who corroborated that I was indeed missing."

"What contacts?" asked al-Sheikh.

"Within the League itself, the New York branch precisely. Anyway, once I had known that I was free, I found lodgings for the night and had some truly restful sleep. And here we are."

"Its about time we talked, then." said Nemo, "About Phoenix, that is."

"First I have a few demands, grant them and in exchange I will help you to the best of my abilities." said MacGuffin, "I want constant protection and some freedom in going where I please."

"Done."

"I also want some money, enough to maintain a Suitable comfortable style of living." said MacGuffin, "I will follow you anywhere, but not to that island again."

"Done."

"If and when you've managed to fulfill your plans, I will be released, and will be granted an adequate severance pay. Agreed."

"Agree." said Nemo.

"Well, then." said MacGuffin with a smirk, "Are you sitting comfortably? Then let us begin."

****

"It was after the war of '67 that I first started thinking of Phoenix, what Phoenix is, or was at the time was a massive covert operation, absolutely devious yet extremely effective, the purpose was end the turmoil in the Middle East. It involved certain assassinations, followed by framing innocent parties, rigged elections, inciting civil turmoil, moving pieces around across a massive chess board, and in the end would be a very possible peace and security, permanent and stable. A Jewish state living side by side with an Arab state... Now to you, this seems absolutely insane, but I assure you that it could have worked.

"My proposal was met with mixed feelings, my superiors were impressed and saw the possibility of success, but couldn't take the risk and vigorously disagreed with the methods. They ordered me to carry on, and think of a less bloody and expensive way. It was 1969, when Bond was married and his wife killed on the same day. He was not the same after that, MI6 found that he had become too violent and unruly so they cut him loose. In 1970, I recruited him myself into the League, he may have been too unstable for her majesty's secret service but not for us. I mean look at the kind of people the League have employed over the years; Edward Hyde, Alphonse Moreau... He fitted in quite nicely, really.

"The reason I recruited him was that I needed some most able personnel aid me in gathering the proper intelligence. I already had one operative, but I needed another. The first operative was stationed in Tel Aviv, Bond operated in Beirut, Cairo and Damascus. The Tel Aviv operative was Mina Jekyll, who in those days went by the pseudonym of Josephine Murray.

"In 1974, I had been granted more personnel to pursue what I wanted. Bond was promoted and returned to London, where I decided to integrate him into the more significant aspects of Project Phoenix. Josephine was reassigned, she protested but it didn't change anything, she relocated to the states where she started working for the American Branch of the League... Back in those days there were only just two branches. Anyway, Bond grew more and more committed to Phoenix, he said that he had found his life's purpose. It made him alive again. And I should admit, I was thrilled at the time to find someone who shared my vision.

"By 1977, it became apparent to us that there was more that we could do in the middle east, so we decided to expand our horizons a bit, and involve the neighboring regions in the process, orchestrating a regime change in those countries that would insure a buffer zone of sorts in case the farther Arab nations decided to threaten the stability of the region. By 1980 we were ready to initiate Project Phoenix, at that point Bond and I had the same rank, and we were equal partners, Project Phoenix's parents, as it were... I can't tell you how I felt when the higher ups in the League decided it wasn't time yet, ordering us to give it a few more years. Bond and I were frustrated, but had to comply. Years later I learned, quite accidentally, that our setback of 1980 was actually instigated by my dear friend and partner; James Bond.

"I confronted him with it, he didn't deny, and apologized, saying that reforming the Middle East wasn't enough, that there was so much more that we could do. That was during New Years party of 1985; our relationship became strained and crumbled within the year from all our repetitive conflicts and fights. Within another year, I had come to the realization that Bond had all the control over Phoenix, myself being a silent partner at best, and that he had extended it to cover all of the middle east and Africa, as well as parts of central Asia.

"Bond was made Deputy Director of the League late in 1987, he outranked me considerably, and I was growing more and more frustrated with each liberty he took with my life's work, resorting to doing anything to make things as difficult as possible for him in connation with all business related matters. I had come to the realization that sooner or later, Bond was going to realize that sooner or later I was going to ruin things completely for him, and that he had to get rid of me to make everything go his way. I knew there was no way I could stip0 him, there was no one on my side capable of covering me forever, and so I decided to get out while I could. Retire.

"But no one retires when they're with us, not really. So my only option was to die, and so I called up my old friend Edward Temple and asked for his help, knowing that the London criminal underground was largely out of the League's domain. I faked my death in Florida and I had been on the run ever since. Now, you have to realize a few things about Phoenix and the League, the more we spent time developing it, the longer its perceived time of completion became, and the more time we spent developing it, the more new blood started to rise to power in the League. People who were thinking bigger and bigger, having no qualms with doing anything as long as it could be done covertly and with minimal direct involvement, acting as the shadows behind the curtain.

"I had managed to disappear, and I could continue to do so until now if it weren't for one thing, I couldn't turn my back on what was going to happen, I couldn't beat the idea of being as oblivious as everyone else when the bomb dropped. I needed to know what was going on back in the League; I needed to know what had Bond managed to do with my life's work. It took some effort and any risks, but I managed to do it.

"Do what, exactly? You may wonder." said MacGuffin as his eyes glimmered, "Acquire the plans for Project Phoenix in its current form. A five year plan, commencing in 2007 and concluding in 2012, preceded by a decade and a half of preparation."

"What is it?" Nemo asked in magnificent awe, his heart racing as he knew all the knowledge he craved was imminent.

"War, Captain Nemo." said MacGuffin, without a spec of levity in his voice, "A full scale war, not a world war, a global war. A war fought by every weapon known to man, incendiary, bacterial, chemical and nuclear, fought by every nation and every army in the world. A war to end all wars."

"And all life as well." said Raimus, "My god! 'Five Years'! Aladdin Sane knew about this, but his madness prevented him from telling us!"

"That's... that's impossible!" said Jenny in a near whimper.

"I'm afraid not, madam." said MacGuffin, "That's their plan, five years of instability, suffering and horror. And in the end, when the smoke cleared and the dust has settled, there will be a stronger loving world, a world with all the sins and the defects of the old one burned out of it.

"A bold new world," mumbled Nemo, "Rising out of the rubble of the old one, like a **Phoenix** out of the ashes."

"How do I know that this...all of this, isn't just a song and dance to get me to join?" asked al-Sheikh as he lit his fifth cigarette.

"You're the spymaster." said Mason, "Decide for yourself if you believe this or not."

"We need to get back to headquarters." said Raimus, "Our people have to be informed."

"No, _you_ have to get back to your headquarters." said MacGuffin, "I just said that I'm not getting back to that Island."

"We're going back to our headquarters." said Mason, "The Island is not our headquarters. It's just a place where we decided who we needed to cut loose. You're coming with us."

"Hmmm. Fine, just don't forget about our agreement."

The four delegates got up, and so did MacGuffin.

"We will leave this evening." said Nemo, addressing al-Sheikh, "You have till then to make your inquiries, and decide if you are ready to join the opposition, or are satisfied with the third camp."

The five walked to the door, leaving al-Sheikh alone, smoking and pondering what he has just heard.

* * *

Now you know, I hope you're not too disappointed. But still, if Austin Powers didn't kill himself, he'd be here telling us that he finds the prospect of nuclear world war more frightening than anything, including carnies.

R&R.


	12. The Volcano

**Now**

_The Island_

Priest didn't have much in the way of possessions; all he had was what he wore. And while the entire camp were gathering their belongings from their tents, all he did was put on his brown leather coat, that he got from the Maroni mafia all those months ago in Gotham, and put on the motorcycle helmet he wore in the daytime.

It was yesterday that Captain Barbossa gathered everyone at the beach, the operatives and the submarine crew alike, and told them of what he had only then learned from his colleagues. He told them of what Phoenix was and what was to come. He made a long and spirited speech about how the opposition was not going stand for it, and how they were planning to wage war upon the League to prevent them from achieving their agenda. He told them of the long and hard road that lay ahead, and how it would by fraught with danger at every turn and an increasing certainty of death with each day.

Barbossa then gave them a choice, to leave then, and wait with the rest of the world for the next four years, and see if the world would plunge into war, or they could be with the opposition, remain for the long haul, face the impossible odds and be prepared for the ultimate sacrifice.

Priest was one of those who chose to leave. He walked out with his hands in his pocket, walked across the camp toward where the Black Pearl and the Yellow Submarine were docked. As he did so he passed the Saints, Connor and Murphy McManus and Jimmy Saint; the New York Cell. Connor and Murphy shot him a glare before returning to their conversation.

"So long, boy-o." said Murphy as he shook hands with Jimmy.

"I'm sorry to see you two going," said Jimmy, "Are you sure about this?"

"Aye. We're sure." said Connor, "It's too grand to handle, ennit? We can't be doing this for ever, Jim. We wager its best for us to get back to Boston, try and clean up the City like we used to in the old days."

"Good luck with that." said Jimmy, "When its over, if I'm still standing, I'll come by and see you."

"You're welcome to do so, brother. We'll have a pint of Guinness, and make an Irishman out of you."

The Boondock saints parted Jimmy, as each went to a different submarine. The brothers walked along the same path as Priest.

The Cairo cell paid Priest no mind as he walked past them. Each was shaking hands with Almasry, who apparently had decided to quit, much like the Boondock saints.

"I'm an old man, Robert." said Almasry as he and Barnes shook hands, "This is a young man's game. I'm going back to Cairo, and I'm going to see my grandson, even if I have to risk getting caught by the League."

"Good luck, Fareed."

"Take care of Aladdin, will you? He is one of us, and we are all he has."

Almasry walked along the same path, Lee Gaum-Ja joined them too, saying goodbye to no one as she had no one to say goodbye to.

In a few minutes, the convoy of those wishing to return to civilian life had reached the Yellow Submarine, which was bound to deliver them all to South Africa, where each would depart to their own destinations, before heading to the headquarters. While the Black Pearl was directly bound for the opposition's headquarters. Priest was the first to step onto the pier, and walked up the gang plank where Shears and a few men waited.

"You may not board, Mister Priest." said Shears as he stood in Priest's way, "Everybody else, get in."

"You may want to step aside, Bill." said Priest as the rest of the convoy got onboard.

"No, I will not." said Shears with a sigh, "Sorry, I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?" asked Priest in frustration, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this it the boat to south Africa, right? If you want to get away from this whole circus, this is where you get on, right?"

"Precisely, sir. However, Captain Nemo has washed his hands from you."

"Nemo isn't here."

"It doesn't matter; you are under no circumstances allowed to set foot in the Yellow Submarine."

"So what the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Captain Barbossa has no qualm with you; you may join him if you wish."

"But Barbossa is heading your fucking secret lair! I don't ant to get anywhere that isn't away from the rest of you."

"Too bad, Mister Priest. You should have thought about that before you went and got everyone killed."

Priest contained his desire to rip Shears' head off.

"Bill, please." said Priest, "My friends are on that boat, I have to be with hem. I've sworn to take care of Shaun."

"Miss Sax is with Mister Collier, sir. You needn't worry about him."

"Shears," hissed Priest, "One way or another, I'm getting on this thing!"

At that, the crewmen surrounding Shears raised their pistols and shotguns.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"

"Yes, it is." said Shears confidently, "There's silver in those guns. Silver will kill you, won't it? Now, I'm aware of your reputation and I know you can kill me before any of them fires. I know you can even kill me and attack a few of **them** before anyone can fire. However tell me this;

"Can you attack me, then attack everyone and take them out before anyone can fire? Because I'd bet you can't... Stand back, Mister Priest, the Black Pearl is waiting for you."

* * *

_The Red October_

"Good evening, Captain." said al-Sheikh as he sat in Raimu's study as Nemo walked in.

"Actually, in these waters, evening is about three hours away."

"Where is this place we're going to?"

"Back in the nineties there was a terrorist plot, to vaporize major cities with a remote weapon of mass destruction unless the governments of the world paid a ransom. Masterminded by the organization of a Belgian terrorist."

"Doctor Stavro Eavell."

"That's the one. He maintained a secret base on a volcanic island, equipped and fitted with the necessary facilities and technology. Now, following his arrest and imprisonment, the British ministry of defense granted the contract to decommission the facility to an American company who were the lowest bidder.

"However, the company found that they could not perform the job at the initially estimated budget, the necessary founds were actually more than what they were getting paid. The company was already in the red and on the verge of collapsing. They were desperate, and that's where Jack Mason came in.

"He made a deal with the company, we would pay them one million dollars, and help them fool the ministry of defense's inspectors, and in return we would get the island, with all the equipment still intact."

"Hmm. I assume you have leverage over them, correct?"

"Incriminating pictures of three board members, plus the chairman, ones of a most insidious nature."

"Ah. Well, I'm fairly certain that we can rebuild your...our entire network within two months, and that includes rectifying all cells in the seven major cities. However, this time we will keep them off the books, much like your Gotham cell."

"Interesting, but won't that by tiresome?"

"We will issue each operative a two digit designation, and all communication would go through you and your associates."

"I see. What about the operatives whose identities have been discovered?"

"We can still use them as roving operatives of sorts, operating in special assignments in countries where we have no cells. This is all rather fresh in my mind, and is subject to change of course."

"Well, I like what I'm hearing right now, and if you can improve upon that, even better. Anything else?"

"Yes. Now, this is just a thought." said al-Sheikh as he lit a cigarette, "But it occurs to me that, with the increase in confrontational operations that are inevitable if e are to tackle Project Phoenix, there will no doubt arise such a situation where one special operative will not suffice, a situation so complex and difficult that it would require a team to undertake. A team of our men with varying skills."

"Much like the original League, right?" asked Nemo with a faint smile of amusement, "I appreciate the irony."

"Such a team would be run and coordinated by myself, if you will allow it and will be comprised of around half a dozen operatives, maybe eight but no more. Their assignments will be the grittier dirtier kind, so our operatives will have to be of a certain type."

"I guess you have a few candidates in mind?"

"Oh," said al-Sheikh as he looked at a pair of photographs in his hands, clipped together with a paper clip, one of a certain man in a gas mask, while the other was of a tall blond woman, "You can say that."

* * *

**One Day Later**

_The Volcano_

"Look," said Mona, "There's Priest."

"God, it is..." said Shaun as he picked up his bag and walked down the gang plank along with Mona, "I thought he said he was quitting."

"Apparently he changed his mind." Mona said quietly.

"Changed my mind? Hardly!" Priest shouted as he stood on the pier, fifty feet away, "I was shanghaied into staying, darlings."

"...He can hear us? From there?" asked Shaun.

"Yeah, really annoying, right?"

Mona and Shaun walked down the plank and onto the dock, then headed in a straight line to their friend.

"Hey, Shaun. Good to see you, buddy." said Priest as he hugged Shaun.

"'Llo, Jude."

"I thought I'd seen the last of you, Priest." said Mona.

"No such luck, cup-cake." said Priest, "It's safe to say that I'm no longer in Captain Nemo's good graces. Nemo can go screw himself. But when I tried to board old yeller here I was politely asked, with about a dozen shotguns aimed at my chest, to fuck off."

"What?" asked Mona, "But you were going to leave, you said you were done."

"Yeah, I know." said Priest, rolling his eyes, "I was there. Anyway, I didn't feel like staying on the island and keep fighting bears and wolves every night, so I got onto the Pearl. Next time the Pearl ot the October head to civilization, I'll be onboard, until then I'll stay out of everyone's way and sit on my hands.

"What about you?" asked Priest, "I thought the deal was that we would all get off together?"

"Umm...We changed our minds." said Shaun.

"Why?"

"Its complicated." said Mona, "We'd like to drop it, please."

"Consider it dropped." said Priest as he hung his head, "One day, I'll be dead and you'll be sorry since we dropped every subject worth discussing... Well, welcome the secret volcano lair."

"God..." Shaun said incredulously, "This place is mad."

Mona and Priest raised their heads to look all around themselves.

"Yeah, it sure is something."

The opposition's headquarters was a secret facility built into a long dormant volcano. Upon approaching the island, the Yellow Submarine has entered through a cave below the sea, and emerged in this place, a massive cave within the volcano, seventy feet high, with powerful spotlights built into the rocks that formed the roof. The cave had been converted into a state-of-the-art dock where both the Yellow Submarine and the Black Pearl were docked. There was room for two other submarines as well, though the opposition had only one more.

"The bosses aren't back yet?" asked Mona.

"No, not yet."

"What are they doing in the middle east anyway?"

"Fetching Sands' replacement, I am told. Some Saudi spymaster."

"Christ..." Shaun whispered, still amazed by the place, "How's the rest of the place?"

"Eh. Seen one military installation, you've seen them all. Pretty standard stuff, really. Barracks, canteen, gym. Oh, there's a shooting range. There's lots of high-tech hardware, lots of fire power. There's a bunch of people who stay here all year long, maintenance crew. Do any of you have any Vodka? 'Cause I ran out and I had been drinking brake fluid all morning."

"Christ, Priest, you look miserable."

"Well, shot in the neck by my boss, forced to live in a volcano with no women, Vodka or stuff to beat the hell out of. What the hell do I have to be happy about?... Still, were here, we might as well make the best of it. So tell me, Shaun, are you ready to get back to school?"

"Umm. Yes, definitely."

"Good."

"I'll catch up with you guys later," said Mona, "I'm going to get settled down."

"Sure thing. Try and get a room in the K. barracks, that's where I'm at. And if a big Russian chick gives you any shit, just take at crack on her B.O., that'll make her cry and get her out of your hair."

"Err. Thanks. So what are you going to teach him now?" asked Mona as she picked up her bag and started walking away, "How to get kicked in the balls?"

"There's no proper way to get kicked in the balls, the proper course is to avoid it altogether. No, I'm going to teach him Savate."

"Cool. See ya around."

Priest started walking away with Shaun following.

"Savate?" asked Shaun, "What's that? Like Karate, or something?"

"It's French kickboxing."

"French Kickboxing?"

"Yes it is, Shauny, French Kickboxing." said Priest, "You are going to learn to kick ass like the French kick ass!"

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Shaun learns to kick ass like the French kick ass. The return of Lord John!


	13. The Recruits

**Now**

_The Volcano_

Naif al-Sheikh walked up to Lucy as she stood admiring a shark swimming outside a window. Al-Sheikh was no longer wearing traditional garb, instead opting to dress in a black business suit.

"Miss Wagner?" said Al-Sheikh, announcing his presence to an absent-minded Lucy, "I'm story if I have startled you."

"Oh... its okay." said Lucy while al-Sheikh reached into his jacket for a pack of cigarettes.

"My name is Naif Al-Sheikh, I have taken over the running of intelligence wing's operations.""

Yes." said Lucy.

"I'm sorry?" said Al-Sheikh as he lit his cigarette.

"I had a dream last night," said Lucy, "We were here and you told me that you were putting together a special team to carry out dangerous and important assignments for the opposition. In my dream I said no, but then you convinced me otherwise, and I accepted... I'm just doing us a favor of sparing us the time. I'm in, I will join your team...And so will Kroenen, I suppose.""

Al-Sheikh coughed, he was in awe.

"How..._cough_...How did you...?"

"I'm psychic."

"Yes, of course."

"You're arguments in my dream were passionate, by the way," said Lucy, "Very rousing."

"Yes, well, thank you. And thank you for joining. I would like to ask you for a favor."

"I know, I'll keep this to myself for now."

"Precisely," said Al-Sheikh as he awkwardly walked away, "Thank you."

* * *

**Three Days Ago**

_Las Vegas_

Lord John Byrd wait by the pool in his penthouse in the Montecito accompanied by his manservant Josh, he was waiting for someone whom he had not seen in a long time, yet learned would be coming only that morning. They came through the French doors, a large, rugged man and a tall attractive woman who he had known for some time.

"Jack!" said the young woman as she walked up to Lord John quickly, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into an embrace. _Lord John_ responded in kind and leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"Jenny, it's been too long, love." said Byrd, his sophisticated accent evaporating, "Hector!"

"Sparrow." said Barbossa.

"That's amazing, after a century and a half you still say my name with the same disdain."

"Well you know what they say about old habits." said Barbossa with a smirk, "Master Gibbs, when are you going to leave this decadent geezer and come work for me?"

"Oh, I'm afraid you can't afford me, Cap'n." said Joshamee Gibbsas he shook hand with Barbossa.

"So, where's the gent you told me about?" asked Sparrow.

"Downstairs, in the lobby with Costas."

"Mister Gibbs, go see that Mister Costas and Mister MacGuffin are being taken care of. Oh, and send for a bottle of Dom for the three of us." said Sparrow as he sat on an expensive sofa nearby.

"Aye, Jack." said Gibbs as he took his leave.

"Speaking of which, did you get the bottle of Dom I left for you by the fountain?"

"We did. It was wonderful. You look great, Jack." said Jenny as she sat next to Sparrow.

"As do you, crumpit. Why isn't your hair Blonde? It was Blonde the last time I saw you, it was gorgeous!"

"Oh, Hector didn't like it that way."

"Hector has no taste, love. You being the exception. I once saw Hector in dread-locks. Dread locks, for god's sake."

"Hector is right here," said Barbossa, "And would you two stop crawling up each other?"

"Oooh. Hector is getting jealous!" said Sparrow as she spread his arms, "Come here you, give old Jackie a great big one!"

"Shan't."

"Suit yourself."

"Old mate," said Barbossa as he sat down, "When will you stop being such a dandy and come work with us? Imagine the hair-raising larks we could get up to, just like in the old days."

"I'm sorry." said Sparrow, "But the third camp suits me just fine.

"So, you've finally caught MacGuffin, eh?"

"That we did."

"Well, tell me nothing of it. I'm just glad you're alright."

"There's something you need to know, Jack."

"TT! I don't want to know anything. I trust you to do whatever you find must be done."

"Whatever you say, Jack."

"Now, what did you want?"

"We need to keep MacGuffin stashed. We promised we'd protect him, and we could hide him in our base but that could be risky."

"And you're wondering if I could take him off your hands? What do you think, that I'm some obscenely rich bastard with the best security money can buy and numerous connections?"

"Yes," said Jenny, "You **are** an obscenely rich bastard with the best security money can buy and numerous connections."

"Of course I am. I'll do it! He sounds like an intelligent fellow."

"Yes. Eton, Cambridge, Oxford."

"Splendid. I'll have someone to talk to."

* * *

**Now**

_The Volcano_

Shaun reloaded the pistol in his hand while Mona yanked the target sheet out of the clip that held it at the end of the shooting range; she inspected the points of impact, measuring their proximity from the kill areas.

"Three headshots," said Mona, "And Twelve right in the chest, including a couple of nice double-taps. You're good."

"Thanks," said Shaun, "Can we load another target?"

"No," said Mona, "Why don't you go spar with Priest. How is the ass kicking going?"

"I'm still on the receiving end, I wonder if I'm ever going to get to beat Priest."

"Well, he's a superhuman creature of the night, I don't think you ever will. Still, the best way to learn and learn fast is to have a powerful opponent. Tomorrow we'll get started on shotguns."

"Shotguns?" said Shaun with a measure of excitement.

"Yeah, shotguns."

* * *

**One Week Later**

_"_Alsalam Alaykum." Sayid heard someone say behind his hack as he sat in one of the rooms, fixing an apparatus. He got up from where he sat and turned to see Al-Sheikh extending his hand. Sayid shook it as he replied,

_"And may peace be with you."_

_"My name is Naif Al-Sheikh, I have been assigned to run this movement's intelligence division, or what's left of it anyway."_

_"I'm Sayid Jarrah. How can I help you?"_

_"As part of the new opposition, I am initiating a new team of former operatives. With your identities compromised, you will not longer be working in your former capacities."_

_"What kind of team?"_

_"A black-ops team, for the purpose of sabotage, retrieval and troubleshooting. It has occurred to me that a man with your talents would be most suitable."_

_"Um.. What about the others, Aisha and Robert?"_

_"They will not be a part of it. I have other jobs in mind for them."_

_"Well who else is in this team?"_

_"If you want to know that, you'll learn about it when you meet them. That is if you accept. Do you?"_

_"That depends, why do you want me?"_

_"Technical support, mostly, as well as combat on occasion, though we will mainly rely on other people for that."_ said Al-Sheikh as he took a drag of his cigarette, _"But I won't bullshit you, I also want you in case there are information we need to get out of people who are reluctant to speak. much like you did with Forrest Gump."_

_"I had no choice in that matter."_

_"There hardly ever is."_

_"I've been trying to put that part of my life behind me,"_ said Sayid, _"I do not desire to torture another soul in my life."_

_"I doubt you desire to be in a bunker inside a volcano, but here you are. Soldiers like us play the hands that we are dealt, we face difficult moral choices and choose the one that would save the most lives."_

Sayid hung his head for a few moments.

_"I'm in."_ said Sayid.

_"I'm glad to hear that, brother."_ said Al-Sheikh as he started walking away,_ "Keep this between us. You will meet you teammates sometime in the future, it could be a few weeks till then."_

_"I'll be waiting."_

* * *

**Two Weeks Later**

"Ehem."

Priest opened his eyes as he lay on the cold, concrete floor in his room and looked up, seeing Al-Sheikh standing before him with a lit cigarette in his hand. He removed the headphones from around his head.

"Good evening, Mister Priest," said Al-Sheikh, "My name is Naif Al-"

"I know who you are," said Priest as he reached for a bottle of Vodka on the floor three feet away from him and unscrewed the cap, "You're Sands' replacement."

"Correct. I was wondering if we could have a word a word or two."

"I don't think so, not if this is about me doing any more assignments for the opposition. I quit. I don't even want the money Nemo owes me. I just want out."

"Then why are you still here?"

"We are inside a volcano in god knows where." said Priest, "I'm not allowed to go aboard the Yellow Canoe, and every time the Black Pearl goes anywhere, someone forgets to tell me."

"Possible. It is possible that a former spy like yourself, one with enhanced senses would encounter difficulty in knowing when a submarine is preparing to make sail, although such knowledge is not at all classified... Or maybe you just don't want to leave."

"Nah, I'm stupid." said Priest as he took a swig of vodka. Al-Sheikh curled his nose in disgust at the smell.

"What? Do you want a sip?" asked Priest with a smirk as he sat up and extended the hand with the bottle, offering the drink, knowing he was irritating the seasoned spymaster.

"Don't flatter yourself, Priest." said Al-Sheikh as he looked away, "I've been in Taliban caves and US Army barracks with specimens much more repulsive than yourself."

"No? Too bad, you don't know what you're missing. There's the door incidentally."

"I see it, but won't use it till I had my say."

"Then by all means, effendi," said Priest, "Have your say."

"As part of the reconstructing of the opposition's intelligence network, I'm putting together an Elite Unit of former operatives whose identities have been discovered like you."

"What kind of unit?"

"Black ops." said Al-Sheikh as he turned back to face Priest, "The kind of work you used to excel at."

"Hmmmm."

Priest took a massive swig.

"Why me?"

"As I said, you used to be very good at this kind of thing."

"Used to, being the operative phrase."

"I'm not sure about that, I'm impressed with how you handled tracking down MacGuffin. I need someone with experience, someone who has _been around_ as they say. The unit's operations could take them to several non-Anglophone countries. I need someone familiar with some of those countries and capable of speaking the language."

"Well..." said Priest with a cocky smirk, "French, German, Korean, Mandarin, Spanish, Russian, Arabic, not to mention English, Latin and Gaelic. There's also some Esperanto. But I don't like to boast."

"So, are you interested?"

"Why should I be?"

"You fought in World War II, didn't you? What was that for?"

"I was being blackmailed."

"Priest..."

"_ugh..._ All right, I wanted to do my part in crushing fascism."

"And what could be more fascist than using the world's nations as puppets, and setting them against each other for some insane notion that something good will come of it."

_"I'm not that kind of person anymore,"_ Priest barked in Arabic, "You know that, don't you? If you were any decent kind of spy, you would know what I did."

"Yes, you are referring to your stint in Vietnam." said Al-Sheikh a she took a drag of smoke, "It is an affair wrapped in layers. I mean officially, Lieutenant Judas Priest deserted the army. However, probing deeper, one will find out that you killed three commanding officers, and chopped off an Intelligence officer's leg."

"There you go."

"But that's not the core, it is simply another layer. I know what really happened, My Lai, wasn't it?"

Priest looked down.

"After you deserted, you leaked the news of the massacre to the American press. It seems you still were battling fascism then, even at the cost of losing what was more dear to you."

"Oh, really?" asked Priest, "And what is most dear to me?"

"The same thing that drove you to find MacGuffin, the same reason why you're about to agree to join the unit; purpose."

Pries sharply stared at Al-Sheikh for over a minute, Al-Sheikh simply smoked and remained unfazed even as Priest's eyes mutated.

"You're good." said Priest, "That shit about purpose is kinda bull, but I like you... I think you and I are going to get along. So, do I get to be their fearless leader?"

"Sorry, no. You may be an expert at this, but you have the finesse of a rusty spoon."

"Yep, you're my kind of guy."

"Keep this between us, say nothing of it." said Al-Sheikh as he walked toward the door.

"Who else is in?"

"All in good time, Priest, you'll meet then soon enough."

* * *

**1968**

_Vietnam_

"Hello?" said Priest as he held the receiver to his ear, standing in an empty tent with two men sanding guard outside.

_"Jude?"_

"Who is this?"

_"Its Nash."_

"Nash?! Well well, how the hell are you, old bean? I'm sorry I missed your retirement party last year, I was…well.."

_"Jude, I know that your son had a stroke. I'm sorry for your loss, Frank was a good kid. I wanted to come and see you but I was too bus sorting that business in Scotland."_

"Yeah, I heard about that. Rouge Agent within the BPRD tried to start an apocalypse, right?"

_"Yeah. Look, are you all alone?"_

"Yeah, I'm alone. What's wrong, George? You sound worried."

_"Look, I just learned about this. Accidentally, might I add. The New Director of the Initiative, you know him?"_

"Yeah, Lindsay Crouse. Talked to me before I got sent here, I worked with him in Jamaica once, didn't like the bastard. What about him?"

_"Jude, you know that he never approved of you. He tried to get you fired."_

"Yeah, I know, you always covered my ass, though."

_"Yes, I always did. But now I'm retired, I can't do it anymore... There's no stopping him."_

"What's wrong, George?"

_"He's finally managed to get the top bras to terminate you... He's convinced them you're unstable and prone to betraying us."_

"How did he do that?"

_"He's dug up all the old information I tried to suppress, information pertaining to your past in Scotland... When I recruited to you I kind of softened your image in order to get them to approve of you."_

"And now they know the whole truth, huh?"

_"I'm sorry..."_

"Don't be. Nash, you were one hck of a guy and you never done wrong by me, you believed in me and that's all that counts."

_"Jude, you're going to get killed, and soon."_

"Are you going to be okay, George? Is any of this going to come bite you in the ass?"

_"What the hell's wrong with you?! Don't worry about me, I'll be fine! Worry about the silver dagger about to get shoved into your heart, they've already sent a CIA buttonman to take you out!"_

"Hmmm. Fella called Felix Leiter, right?"

_"Yeah, do you know him?"_

"Not yet, I think I'll meet him for a drink tonight... After I finish up some business."

_"Are you out of your damn mind?"_

"Goodbye, old timer. Take care of yourself. And give my regards to Laura."

_"Prie-"_

Priest hung up and snickered as he reached into his pocket and took out a cigar, lit it with a wooden match and marched out the tent, ignoring the two privates as they saluted him and heading back to Dan Taylor's tent.

"Hey, is everything all right?" asked Taylor.

"Everything is fine." said Priest as he sat down and picked up his cards.

"You sound different; it must have been one hell of a phone call."

"Oh, it was." said Priest as he took a puff of cigar smoke and then tossed his cards on the table, "I have just heard the truth, and the truth has set me free."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** A copious amount of awesome. Next chapter is E-VENT-FULL. Shaun gets uppity, Priest gets nasty, Al-Sheikh rounds his elite unit up. We also take strolls down memory lane, taking a look at how Mona fell into her life of crime, and we see why its not a good thing to be around when Priest quits a job. 


	14. Paint it Black

**Two Weeks Later**

_The Volcano_

"I'll do it." said Mona as she looked at her feet, "But...Would you mind pretending that I didn't? Could we keep this between us?"

"That is what I was about to ask of you, Miss Sax." said Al-Sheikh, "It'll be a long time before we speak of this again. Until we meet again."

Al-Sheikh walked away as Mona stood at her place pondering what she had just agreed to.

"What was that all about?" asked Shaun as he walked in.

"Nothing. What are you doing here?"

"Well, this is the shooting range." said Shaun, "I thought we were supposed to practice some more."

"You already shoot really good, Shaun." said Mona, "I'm done teaching you, you can practice by yourself if you want. Or why don't you go work on your savate with Priest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, Shaun, you shoot better than some people with years of practice." said Mona as she walked out.

"What did Al-Sheikh tell you?"

"Nothing."

"What do you mean nothing?" asked Shaun as he followed her, "I've seen him talk to Priest two weeks ago, now he's talking to you. What the bloody hell's going on?"

"It's none of your business, Shaun."

* * *

**1998**

_Manhattan, New York City_

She walked through the rain soaked streets of Manhattan, her hands tucked into her raincoat's pockets, lost in her own thoughts, too distant to notice the Lincoln Towncar that pulled up right next to her.

"Mona Sax?"

Mona stopped and turned around to look at who it was, a woman of her early fifties, auburn haired and with cruel green eyes.

"What do you want?" asked Mona wearily.

"Get in the car, Miss Sax." said the woman in a commanding voice.

"I don't think so." said Mona as she tried to walk away.

"This concerns your sister's welfare, not to mention yours."

Mona hesitated for a few moments, but knew she couldn't just walk away, not if Lisa might be involved.

"What is it?"

"Please get in, Miss Sax. At least to get out of the rain."

The woman's voice was soothing, yet menacing. Mona obliged and once she was out of the rain and sitting the leather upholstered interior of the car, the driver took off.

"Don't worry, Vincent knows your address, we'll drop you off after you have heard what I have to say."

"Who are you?"

"My name is Nicole Horne, I run Aesir Corporation, the pharmaceuticals manufacturer. Have you heard of it?"

"I've seen the ads. 'A bit closer to heaven', that's your slogan, right? What do you want?"

Horne handed her a file filled with police reports.

"There was a mafia killing one month ago in Hell's Kitchen. Peter Clemenza was shot, as was another unidentified individual, both connected to the Corleoni mob, allegedly. The witnesses identified the shooter as a twenty-something woman, Caucasian, brunette, five-six. You."

"That's bullshit. Stop the car."

"Don't worry; the cops don't know it was you. There is no way for them to find out, unless I tell them."

"Why didn't you tell them if you're so sure?"

"I have nothing to profit. Besides, I must say I was impressed. First time shooter and you managed to do it rather expertly, they say none of them saw you as you walked up to them and shot one in the head and the other in the heart... Curious thing, the second victim stood right up."

"What?"

"That's what they said; he stood right up and started yelling and demanding to know who you were. He left before the cops could get there and seems to have since disappeared. But you needn't worry about him."

"Wait, how do did learn all this?"

"Straight from the source, from Don Angelo Punchinello himself. He works for me."

"Does he?"

"Yes. When I asked he said that your father owed him money, and since his death his debt has been passed on to you. Your sister Lisa was kidnapped so that you would be more compelled to pay off your debts. She was released when you did just that.

"Funny thing, though, it seems Little Lisa and the Don have become something of an item."

"Would you mind cutting to the chase?"

"I believe you have a knack for this kind of business, Miss Sax. I would like for you to come and work for me."

"I don't, got lucky."

"You have the killer's instinct, and that's all the matters. We can train you, not to mention the pay will be handsome."

"I already have a job."

"Yes, I know. A dead end job as tech support for a middle-sized auditing firm. I'm offering you a new lease on life, Miss Sax. I'm offering you ten times you measly pay, a chance to travel on the job, have new experiences all the time, answer to no one but me, not to mention setting your own hours. All to squeeze a little trigger every now and then."

"I can't." said Mona as she hung her head, "I can't kill people for a living!"

"You can. You will."

"I'm not that kind of person."

"Yes you are. Once you've felt that jolt run up your arm and smelt the aroma of cordite and blood, there can be no turning back."

"There's something wrong with you, lady."

"If you're not going to help yourself. Think bout Lisa."

"What about Lisa?"

"As you know she and the Do have become and Item, what if they continue seeing each other, what if they marry? Do you think she's going to be treated decently by him? Punchinello is an animal, only I can restrain him. If you want Lisa's safety, you will-"

"Fine." said Mona as she raised her head with closed eyes, "I'll do it."

* * *

**Three Weeks Later**

_The Volcano_

"Sure thing, boss!" said O'Brien as he stood before Al-Sheikh with a beer bottle in his hand, wearing an unbuttoned Hawaiian t-shirt, "Sound's like a hoot!"

"Keep your voice down, for god's sake. They're not supposed to know."

"Okay. Just as long I do more than hang around Caracas for six months with nothing to do... I mean I will get to do my thang, right?"

"My good man," started Al-Sheikh, "You will be doing you "thang" so often that you will beg me to kill you."

"Awesome!" said O'Brien, and then his jaw stretched out and he poured the contents of the bottle into his throat. Al-Sheikh drew an expression of disgust.

"I'm sorry, did you want some?"

Shaun looked on from where he stood as Al-Sheikh walked out of the gym.

"Come on!" yelled O'Brien as his hand morphed into the shape of one of those foam gloves sworn by American spectators in sporting events, "Let's see some bloodshed!"

"Shaun."

Shaun merely looked at the door through which Al-Sheikh had just exited.

"Shaun!" said Priest as he held on to a punching bag.

"What?"

"I'm not holding this heavy bag because its fun. You're supposed be training."

"Who the hell is that bloke and why does he keep talking to everyone and swearing them to secrecy?"

"He's a spy, Shaun." said Priest impatiently, "Secrecy is key. Now kick the fucking bag."

Shaun stepped back then aimed a pair of martial arts kicks to the bag then paused.

"Why did you stop?" asked Priest, "Those were some sloppy kicks, man. You were better three minute ago."

"BLOODSHED!"

"Shut up, O'Brien!" yelled Priest. O'Brien merely quieted and sat down.

"I knew he was talking to you, over a month ago."

"Maybe he did."

"I saw him talking to Mona weeks ago."

"What? Are you jealous?"

"I just want to know what's going on."

"Maybe you will, right now you won't. Deal with it."

Shaun walked away, leaving Priest to let go of the bag.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going to find a drink."

"We're supposed to be sparing."

"I don't particularly care. I've been in this place for over a month and I have no idea why. I'm so sick of all this. The secrecy and the dishonesty"

"Shaun, come on."

"Piss off, you wanker." mumbled Shaun as he headed to an exit.

"Ummm. Guys, are you okay?" asked O'Brien, Shaun and Priest simply ignored him.

"What did you call me?" asked Priest angrily, "After all that I've done for you, this is how you talk to me?"

"What exactly did you do for me?" asked Shaun as he turned around, "Beside getting my wife killed?"

"Ooooooooh. That's friggin' bad."

Priest turned around and shot O'Brien a fiery stare, so intense that O'Brien instantly stood up and headed for the nearest exit.

"This is it, then?" asked Priest, "You blame me for what happened to Liz."

"Who else is there?"

"I dunno, the bastards that did it?" asked Priest, "Or maybe the one man who was supposed to be protecting her, but didn't...you."

"What?"

"Did you even try to save here, Shaun?" asked Priest, "Did you even try to fight them off? Or you too scared to fight anyone who isn't already dead?

Filled with anger, Shaun spun around with tremendous speed and aimed a kick at Priest's chest that knocked him off of his feet.

"Yeah, that's what I'm talking about." said Priest as he got up to his knees, "That was a fine kick, you've actuall-"

Shaun came at him with another kick, hitting him in the jaw and knocking him onto his back.

"Hit first, hit hard and keep on hitting. Don't let the other bastard up, isn't that what you taught me?" said Shaun as he was kicking Priest in the ribs.

Priest grabbed Shaun's heel and twisted it, sending his protégé spinning in the air and falling down.

"Let's get rid of some pent-up aggression, eh?" said Priest as he got up and raised his fists.

Shaun was quick to recover, and fast to come at Priest with a pair of kicks to the jaw, managing to duck when Priest attempted to aim hi own. His streak ran out a few punches and kicks later, when Priest caught his wrist.

"We're done." said Priest and then head-butted Shaun in the face.

Shaun dropped to his knees nursing his nose, and did not resist as Priest's knee collided with his jaw.

" Consider this your graduation day." said Priest as he mended his broken nose, "I'm not going to break your arm because I understand your pain. But next time you decide to get uppity, you'll see how big a bastard I can be."

* * *

**1968**

_Vietnam_

CIA Agent Felix Leiter stalked through the darkness, screwing the silencer to his gun, slipping the clip of silver bullets in. He had to be quick about this particular business, pull the trigger before the target got wise and be on his way home.

He slipped through the slit in the tent's side and looked at the cot where Lieutenant Priest was covered with a blanket from head to toe, while an eight-track player nearby played The Rolling Stones' Paint it Black.

_I see people turn their heads and quickly look away,_

Leiter fired twice at the body, at where he thought the heart was, and then fired a few more rounds across the body in case he had missed. Even if he did miss, that many silver would weaken him enough. He didn't seem to miss, though, as the body didn't move. If that were anyone else, he'd have been satisfied, but of what he had been told, the body was supposed to combust and turn into ash right about then.

Leiter inched closer toward the cot and pulled the blanket off, gasping as he noticed who it was. It was not Priest at all, but an army major bound and gagged, his throat was ripped open and bled dry.

_I look inside myself and see my heart is black_

"What in the Sam Hill..."

Before Leiter could fully realize that Priest had somehow anticipated this attack, he felt tremendous pain below his knee, the agony traveled upward and he buckled down to the ground.

"Mister Leiter, we haven't been properly introduced."

Felix tried to scream, but found a rag being crammed into his mouth, and someone crouched on top of him cuffing his hand. He tried to kick, but it hurt him to do so, and then he realized what had happened.

Leiter's right leg was three feet away from him, severed below the knees he was standing over the major's body wondering what had happened.

Priest was standing nearby, dressed in civilian clothes with a bloody machete in his hand. He dropped it on the floor and picked up Leiter's leg. He took a massive bite of the bloody stump prompting Leiter to scream in anger, or at least try to.

_It's not easy facing up when your whole world is black_

"I'm Judas Priest, I was the boogeyman of Scottish highlands for decades. I have fought the Nazis and the Koreans, evaded the KGB fourteen times and lived for two-hundred and eighty-nine years, during which I have racked up a body count in six high figures. I'm not proud of it, but that's something you should have known before you accepted this assignment. That man sleeping in my bunk had approved the massacre in My Lai, him and two others whom I have killed and will be found in the morning. The My Lai massacre was covered up, hushed up by the top brass, but won't be for long. I'm going to make sure people know about it. I'm sorry for cutting off our leg, especially since you were just doing your job, but then again you tried to kill me in my sleep, and that's not the American way, not my America."

Leiter's screams were muffled by the rag in his mouth, he thrashed and tried to get out of his cuffs, earning a kick in the chest.

"But then again, America has changed, hasn't it? And I am not willing to change along with it, I will not play this sick kind of game, nor will I be played by the likes of you... Felix Leiter, as an Agent of the United States of America, I hereby tender to you my resignation from the United States marine corps and the Initiative. Good night, and good luck."

And then Priest walked out of the tent and disappeared, leaving Leiter on the floor, trying to scream and on the verge of losing consciousness.

_I want to see it pained black, black as night, black as coal, I want to see the sun blotted out from the sky._

_I want to see it painted, painted, painted... painted black._

* * *

**One Week Later**

_The Volcano_

Shaun sat alone on a bench in the shooting range fidgeting with a lock and two tiny instruments; he didn't notice as Al-Sheikh walked in and stood behind him.

"Mister Collier, is it?"

"Yeah." said Shaun as he turned around to see who it was, then returned his focus to the lock he was trying to pick, "Can I help you?"

"We have not been properly introduced; my name is Naif Al-Sheikh. Former head of the Saudi Arabian Secret Service and current intelligence coordinator of the opposition."

"Yeah, I know."

"Might I ask you what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to pick this bloody thing."

"Is it part of your training?"

"I guess so. Mona stopped teaching me to shoot, Priest basically washed his hands of me. I'm trying to expand my horizons, you know. What do you want?"

"Mister Priest tells me you were upset when he did not give in to your demands of telling you what was between myself and Priest, or myself and miss Sax."

"Did he, now?"

"It was none of your business at the time; it was simply between me and them. Of course, I wasn't sure about you then."

"What are you talking about?" asked Shaun as the lock clicked open.

"As part of the opposition's effort to confront the league, I have been authorized to assemble an elite unit." said Al-Sheikh as he took out a cigarette and stuck it between his teeth, "This unit will consist of a finite number of operatives and will perform highly dangerous, top-priority assignments, blacks ops. Mister Collier, I'm here to recruit you into this unit."

"What? Are you serious?" asked Shaun.

"I never jest about my work. For two months you have been undergoing a crash course in hand-to-hand combat and firearm handling, a highly painful one, as I hear. You've endured what many would buckle under. I don't have to be Sidney Reiley to figure out that you seek vengeance for what happened to your wife. I feel your pain, by the way."

"What, did the League kill your wife too?" scoffed Shaun.

"Yes, they did." said All-Sheikh as he took a drag of smoke and exhaled, "You won't get far if you decide to act on your own. If you want justice, this is your best chance."

"But why me?" asked Shaun, "Priest can kill ten gorillas with his bare hands, Mona can out-gun an army by herself, O'Brien can become anything he can imagine... What makes you think I'll be any use?"

"Because you've felt it." said Al-Sheikh, "The others have their moral codes and convictions that drive them to oppose the league, but you... You know exactly what they are capable of. I want you because you know what they're like."

"I don't know the first thing about them!"

"Yes, you do. You know of their sense of superiority, their arrogance, their hubris... You know that that they know they can do what they see fit and get away with it."

"Alright, so suppose I accept, what will I have to do?"

"I won't lie to you, It won't be pretty. You'll have to hurt people you've never met, steal and destroy. Sooner or later, you'll have to kill."

"But not innocent bystanders, right? We're only fighting the League?"

"Mister Collier, if that was not the way we operated the opposition would not exist."

Shaun hung his head.

"Okay... I'll do it."

"Excellent." said Al-Sheikh as he put out his cigarette, "You should-"

"Yea, I know, keep this between us, you'll tell me when its time. I know."

"No, that's not it." said Al-Sheikh as he walked away, "There's a set of stairs down the corridor, walk down them as deep as they will take you. You will reach a vacant sublevel. Go there room at precisely 12 am tomorrow night, head for the second door to your left."

"What for?"

"Its time you met the rest of the family."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** The opposition's League convene in the bowels of the opposition's bunker where they will learn of their first assignment that will pit them against the most powerful man on earth. 


	15. The Devil's Work

**Now**

_The Volcano_

"Good evening." Said Al-Sheikh, standing in the foreground of a room located deep within the opposition's bunker at the lowest sublevel. The room was vacant when they came; its floors and walls were lined with white square ceramic tiles. The ceiling was bare, revealing the plumbing running through the rafters and had only one a single light, casting ominous shadows on the eight present, Naif, Shaun, Sayid, O'Brien, Lucy, Mona, Priest, the unit who sat on metal folding chairs in two rows, as well as Kroenen who stood idly at the back, barely visible as his back form-fitting fighting suit blended with the dark corner.

"The six of you, seven if we could count Kroenen, are going to be a hand-picked elite unit that will be known from now on as the Minutemen. Your main objective will be performing high-priority missions with a high-risk of confronting the enemy. You will receive your orders from me though you will ultimately answer to the four captains as well. The nature of your mission will mostly involve sabotage, theft and investigation.

"Each one of you brings his or her own skills and experiences to the table, combat training, intelligence gathering and surveillance. I expect you all to use these skills wisely and without excess, as well as respect your teammates' abilities. I need you all to work as a team; some of you have previously shown signs of having problems with teamwork, if you are willing to allow that to persist then you may leave right now."

Mona glanced for a second at Priest's direction.

"Receiving my orders and instructions, it will be up to you to decide on the specifics, you will do so democratically. However, occasionally a situation my arise such that you are unable to discuss the best course of action, in that case one of you will have to assume the burdens of leadership. For that position I have chosen Miss Sax to be that person.

"There is something you all have to understand. Black Ops is the Devil's work. We will be using the same methods as our enemies to defeat them, murder, violence, larceny and deception. What I'm saying is that unlike the opposition's cells that you were previously parts of, you will be getting your hands dirty, and you have to be willing to get your hands dirty at any given **minute**.

"You might wonder; if we use such methods, then how are we any different from the League? There is no clear answer, I could claim that the ends justify the means, or that no one who will suffer our actions doesn't deserve it in some way, but the simple truth is that we must do what is necessary, The truth is that we are going up against an adversary that is pragmatic, single minded, diligent and believe in what it is doing, an enemy that will do anything to get what it wants, regardless of what innocent bystander gets hurt in the process…. Some of you know that very well. So to prevail we must match their ruthlessness, we must do heinous acts that we previously though unthinkable. You must perpetrate evil out of necessity, yet you must do it without relish… You must become the darkness, yet refuse it to be a part of you.

"I have been a spy and secret agent for decades, I have seen many men who were pinnacles of integrity try and fail, I've seen righteous men led astray and lose the path and become what they once fought. Righteous men... You are far from righteous. Which is not to say that I know you will fail, I hope you don't, but I have no reason to believe otherwise, either. So I ask you this, can you do what needs be done, but not be affected by it? Will you have a problem down the road? I hope you won't have a problem with that. If else, we will understand if you quit right now. In any event, your integrity will be tested soon enough. Right now, there are other dangers that could destroy this unit from the start.

"For this unit to succeed, there has to be an atmosphere of trust. I have not worked with any of you before, so I do not trust any of you or presume that any of you should trust me. With the exception of Miss Sax and Mister Priest, none of you have worked together before so I assume there is little trust among yourselves."

Naif took another drag of his cigarette.

"I know about you careers, I now the things you've done. I have read your flies and I'm afraid I trust you less for it… The only way for us to build trust is for you to tell me of what the files do not say. Tell me, why are you here in this room. Tell me why you aim to be the point men in the effort to topple the league, even though you are faced with a high probability of failure, the risk of a very certain, very painful, very slow, very fast approaching death or worse. Tell me your true motives; tell me what drives you, and let us begging to build that trust."

* * *

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"It's good to see you again, Nemo." Said Bruce Wayne as he stood in his parlor, while Captain Nemo was being escorted in by Alfred, Wayne's butler.

"Bruce, good to see you." Said Nemo as he embraced his old friend, slapping him between the shoulder blades.

"I read about what happened last week, your recent spar with the Joker. How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine. Yourself? Where the hell did you disappear to?"

"Oh, we'll talk about that." Said Nemo as he took a step back, glancing at Alfred.

"Where can we talk?"

"Here is as good as any." Said Wayne, "Whatever you want to say, you'll have to say it in front of Alfred. He knows everything there is to know, anyway."

"Bruce…"

"Besides, for this kind of work, you'll find that Alfred is more capable than I am."

"Oh?"

"Quite so, sir." Said Alfred, "MI-5, 1965 to 1971. The League even tried to recruit me, back when it was being run by Harry Lime."

"Yes, I remember Lime." Said Nemo, "Well, then. Let's talk shop."

The three sat down. For the next fifteen minutes, Nemo told them everything. He told them about the sting operation two months ago during which many of the opposition's operatives perished. He then told them about the new opposition, the new arrangements and the works. And finally, he told them all he knew about MacGuffin and Phoenix.

One Nemo was done, Alfred was in shock. Wayne frowned and seemed for a few moments to be deep in though.

"I would understand if you find all this to be hard to believe." Said Nemo.

"Not really. Three years ago when I first started a man tried to gas all of Gotham to save the world. **He** was part of a League too."

"If you continue to work with us, rest assured that your identities will be secure. Both of you will be known only to me. However, you have to decide if you want to continue to work with us, as I know you have enough responsibilities, with your businesses and your nocturnal activities. So, are you in?"

"You bet your ass we're in."

"Excellent." Said Nemo with a smile as he stood up.

"Will you be staying for dinner, Captain?"

"I'd love to, but I need to get back to base." Said Nemo as he headed for the door, "Oh, Bruce?"

"Yeah?" said Wayne.

"Do you know the Metropolis crime fighter?"

"Superman?" asked Wayne, "No, I've never met him."

"Ah, that's too bad."

"What?" asked Wayne with a chuckle, "Did you think we might have bumped into each other at the cape shop?"

"Goodbye, Bruce."

* * *

_The Volcano_

Thirty minutes later and the mood changed in the Minutemen's first meeting. The caution tension was replaced with a nervous silence. Many things were brought to light, highlighted by one or two minor shouting matches, a few sneering remarks and Priest basically braking down and confessing to something he'd kept hidden.

The group had taken a break, Sayid smoked one of Al-Sheikh's cigarettes outside with O'Brien, Lucy paced a distance away by herself, Mona was standing behind Priest, trying to soothe him, while Shaun sat in his place.

Ten minute later, everything had cooled down enough. They returned to their seats while Al-Sheikh lit a fresh cigarette.

"Alright. Now that the ice has been broken, we'll get to the bottom of why we're here.

"MacGuffin has given us a good idea of what Phoenix is. He has told us that it is a five year plan, beginning last year and ending four years from now, in 2012. What he didn't tell us are the specifics.

"Before MacGuffin was arrested by the League, he was trying to find us, which is why he was in Paris. His purpose was to give us the plans to project Phoenix so that we may avert it. He had obtained knowledge of the whereabouts of a loose copy of the plans.

Al-Sheikh pressed a button on a remote in the palm of his hand, and an image was cast on the wall next to him, depicting a building in a metropolitan area.

"This is the First National Bank of Metropolis." Said Al-Sheikh, "The plans are located in a safety deposit box here. We need to get it, only we can't. Any safety deposit box has two keys, one with the customer and one with the manager. To open a box we need the customer key and to be listen on the signatory card. We have the customer key but the signatory card is a problem. The only way is to coerce the manager into helping us."

"Excuse me…" said Priest, his sense of melancholy evaporating, "But is the First National Bank of Metropolis located in Metropolis, Delaware by any chance?"

"Naturally."

"Right. It can't be done." Said Priest, "If you're talking about robbing the damn bank, you can just forget about it right now."

"What?" said Lucy, "I don't understand."

"Mister Priest is referring to an individual who is a resident of Metropolis, they call him the Super-Man. He is endowed with great powers that he uses to fight crime." Said Al-Sheikh, "Since he firs arrived in Metropolis, there has not been a single successful bank robbery."

"What? He's real?" asked Shaun, "I thought he was just a myth like the Loch Ness Monster."

"Nah. Superman's real." Said O'Brien, "Batman is the urban legend."

"Batman's real too." Mona said.

"No kidding?"

"Yeah. Wait." Mona said, "We don't have to rob the bank. Why don't we just bribe the manager into letting us in?"

"The manager isn't the sort of person to be bribed. We've checked."

"We can take him in at night, make him get into the bank after hours to help us."

"That would be a good idea, as the Super-Man's activities decrease after nighttime. However, the bank has a round the clock security team. If this was a smaller bank we would have done so."

"If bribing doesn't work, what about blackmail?" asked Mona, "Or is the manager a boy scout?"

"Getting leverage will take time we don't have." Said Al-Sheikh, exhaling a cloud of smoke, "I've calculated all angles; this is the only way. The Red October will take us tomorrow. Don't worry, a plan has already been made. I'll fill you in tomorrow. Meeting adjourned."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** The Minutemen versus Superman. It is as simple as that. Featuring Eel O'Brien's confession.


	16. The Minutemen's first score

**Five Days Ago**

_The Volcano_

"I have to go first? Alright, alright… A while ago Priest and I were working in Gotham, there was this guy who was helping us; he was kind of stuck up, a law and order type of guy. He didn't take a shine to either one of us. He accused me of killing a witness that was going to put away a dirty mayor a few years ago. I denied it, I told him I was somewhere else at the time, and he believed me. I was lying... I was in Gotham several years ago, killing that witness, and I did it for fifty-thousand dollars.

"Now that guy, he wasn't going to hand me to the cops, he wasn't going to hit me, he wasn't going to shoot me... He was obligated to help me and I didn't have to do a damn thing for him, I could've flaunted the fact that he was helping someone responsible for things that he strives to defeat. And normally I would, I mean I've never felt ashamed in my life about anything... until that moment.

"So I guess I'm in for the redemption, like everyone else... No, that's not right, I don't believe in redemption. Redemption is worthless, no matter how good you do, it doesn't change the fact that you were someone who did something to cause more shit in an already shitty world... But I have to do something."

"That makes barely makes sense." said Priest, "By barely, I mean not at all."

"Shut up, Priest."

* * *

**Now**

_Metropolis, Delaware_

"Everybody on the fucking' floor!" yelled Mona through her ski-mask, raising her shotgun upward and firing at the ceiling of the First National Bank of Metropolis.

With strength and precision, Shaun punched a security guard in the jaw, and with the resulting momentum aimed a spinning kick to another's jaw. Before he reached down to pull out both their guns. O'Brien jumped behind a desk and stopped a clerk from sounding the alarm.

Screams of panic sounded through the place as Mona jumped onto a teller's table, kicking a guard in the face with her heel and firing the gun once more into the ceiling. All the time O'Brien, Shaun and Kroenen who was doing as Lucy psychically bade him were dispatching of the guards, Lucy herself was aiming a shotgun of her own at the cowering crowds, like Mona, all of the present Minutemen were wearing ski-masks.

"This is a robbery." shouteded Mona, "We want the money. We don't won't to kill you, but we don't mind! Do not fuck with us!!"

* * *

**Four Days Ago**

_The Red October_

Al-Sheikh tossed Mona an American passport, she caught it and looked into it as Al-Sheikh tossed others to the rest of the minutemen, all the time mentioning their names followed by their new alias,

"Sax. Kate Harding."

"Collier. Mike Gallagher.:

"Priest. Frank Rose."

"Wagner. Anna Kluge."

"Jarrah. Ali el-Tiqritti."

"Eel. Charlie Murphy."

"What about the Nazi gimp?" asked Priest as he inspected his passport, "Wait… this says I'm 5'6"! You robbed me of two inches!"

"A forged passport isn't going to help Kroenen blend in." said Al-Sheikh and extinguished his cigarette, "We'll be in Metropolis by morning, local time... You will scope the bank and calculate the police's response time, familiarize yourselves with the city, memorize your escape routes. You will do all your prep and proceed with the plan in four days."

* * *

**Now**

_Metropolis_

"Motherfucker," cursed Mona as she aimed her shotgun at Priest, who was dressed in a suit, posing as an average customer, "Are you trying to be a hero? Wanna die, hero?"

According to the plan, Priest faked an attempt to attack and disarm Mona. The attempt failed, just as it was supposed to.

"Please! I'm sorry! I-" said Priest, feigning panic.

"Go to hell." said Mona as she pulled the trigger, firing into Priest's chest and sending him flying back.

Priest stifled the urge to make any sound as he hit the ground hard, despite the excruciating pain of a shotgun blast at point-blank range. He tried his best to remain motionless as he lay there, and hoped no one would notice his pained expression.

Customers looked on in horror as a life appeared to have been taken before them, a young woman fainted and several screamed. An old man closed his eyes, kneeled and prayed with a rosary in his hand. The staged faux execution achieved its intended goal; to force the crowd into an obedient terror.

"Sayid," said Mona quietly, "Priest just went down. What's the situation?"

One block away, in a park van, Sayid sat looking at a computer screen displaying satellite footage, and listening to Mona through a headset.

_"The silent alarm has not been sounded. The skies are clear; the alien is none the wiser."_

"Good."

A minute later, Shaun dragged the manager to Mona. He was a bespectacled man of his forties, rightfully very nervous.

"Tell me," said the bank manager as he was held at gunpoint by Shaun, "Tell me what you want... Just please, don't kill anyone else."

"What do you think?" Mona said, "We want the money."

On the floor, Lucy stood among all the scared hostages, holding her shotgun and listening carefully. Not for voices, but for something else.

It came to her in an instant; she spun around and aimed her gun at someone on the floor.

"Don't think about it!"

The hostage looked at her blankly.

"I know what you're about to do. We told you not to do it. Why didn't you listen? GET UP!"

Kroenen to come to them, the gas-masked abomination reached into the hostage's jacket and took out a massive revolver, before Kroenen knocked the hostage out.

"Anna? Everything alright?" asked Mona.

"Everything is under control."

Mona turned her attention back to the manager.

"We want these bags filled, all unmarked bills, all twenties."

"Whatever you say."

* * *

**Six Days Ago**

_The Yellow Submarine_

Al-Sheikh sat in Nemo's office, drinking tea with the Captain as they discussed matters of great importance, while the submarine was being prepared to sail for Gotham.

"We will need to investigate Senator Regan McNeil's involvement with the League," said Nemo, "Particularly her connection with Josephine. We may perhaps have to intervene, sabotage her campaign to make sure she doesn't get elected."

"That's not impossible, though will be undeniably troublesome." said Al-Sheikh, "Might I ask you why you keep referring to Wilhelmina Jekyll as Josephine, especially when you know her real name and knew her by that name a long time ago?"

"I prefer to dissasociate the person I knew from the person she has become..." said Nemo as he set his empty cup down, "The person I knew, while an unfaithful wife and a dishonest person was also caring and had the welfare of mankind in high regard."

"What do you suppose changed her?"

"I do not know. Perhaps it was simply time... I myself have changed in the over a century and a half that I have lived, for instance, I did not imagine a hundred and twenty years ago that I would be sitting in my submarine sipping tea with a Muslim man, no offence."

"Oh, none taken."

"Are you sure this will work?" asked Nemo, "This team of yours, the minutemen. Why do you call them that, incidentally?"

"Because they will need to be prepared to do whatever needs be done at any given minute. Also, like the American minutemen, they will be dealing with extreme situations at a minute's notice. But honestly, It just happens that having such an impressive name helps with morale." said Al-Sheikh, "It will, for a time. But... failure is inevitable, somewhere along the line something bad will happen."

"Like what?"

"The things that could go wrong are too numerous to count. The loss of a team member could rip the rest to shreds, not to mention the specimens we have in this unit. Take miss Wagner for instance, I have reasons to believe she may not be as balanced as she might seem, I fear the control she keeps Kroenen under might have a negative effect of her. And then there is Mister Priest, of course..."

"Yes, I know all about him. So tell me, why these seven?"

Al-Sheikh took a sip of tea as he prepared to explain.

"In assembling this unit, I had decided to select individuals with skills that would complement each other, so that together they may be able to deal with any given situation. I used the original 1899 League as a template.

"Take O'Brien for example. Though not an invisible man, his abilities make him able to evade detection by bending his body into the shape of any mundane size with equal mass. He could listen in on a meeting by posing as a piece of furniture. Overlooking his abilities, O'Brien has less than reputable skills as a thief, much like Rodney Skinner; Safecracking, for instance.

"When selecting this unit's Mina Harker, Priest was the obvious choice, though he lacks her knowledge of chemistry as well as her ability to go out in sunlight. When I came to select this team's Dorian Gray, It was just as obvious that I had already found him. Like Gray, Priest is well traveled and knowledgeable of numerous languages, as well as possessing a wealth of _experience_ that includes training in this field of work. There is another reason which I'll explain shortly.

"In Henry Jekyll's stead, I chose Lucy Wagner. While the doctor had a grasp on psychology and human behavior that enables him to guess people's motives and such, Miss Wagner can have direct access to people's psyches.

"As for our Hyde, it was an odd coincidence that he was connected to our Jekyll. Like Hyde, Kroenen is a killing machine, a murderous animal held in check by a physically lesser, more gentle individual. However, unlike Hyde, there can be no reasoning with Kroenen should he escape Miss Wagner's control. Should something happen to miss Wagner, Kroenen will be the worse loose cannon you can imagine, and is certain to lash out against his teammates. That's where Priest comes in; on his first mission with the US government, he was tasked with stealing an artifact known as the spear of destiny from the Nazi regime. During that time he came in contact with Kroenen and managed to live through it. I think he could do it again, but I hope that theory is never put to the test."

"And I suppose Sayid is my analogue?"

"Sayid is a very competent man. Though not an inventor, he has a kind of cognate affinity when in it comes to machinery and electronics. Putting that aside, Sayid is a trained soldier who has seen war, just like Priest. I expect them both to be driven toward seeing that a new doesn't break out. Then there is his experience in _intelligence gathering_."

"I hope you are not referring to his stint as a torturer." Said Nemo, "Torture is the last thing we would ever turn to."

"I hope we never do," said Al-Sheikh, "But we need to be prepared for that if it ever happens that were left with no other choice.

"Finally, for our Quatermain, Mona Sax was the only choice. She could probably give the great white hunter a run for his money. She also has experience with planting and disarming explosives as well as martial arts training. Add to that her former profession as a tech support which would allow her to support Sayid wherever he may need it, and you will find that she is a perfect candidate."

"And why did you choose her to be the Minutemen's field leader?"

"It was a choice between Jarrah, Sax and Collier. All the others were inexperienced. At first I was inclined toward Priest, having more experience than all others. However, he seems to lack discipline."

"An understatement. Priest has the stubbornness of a teenaged control and the impulse control of a rabid gorilla."

"He also seems to be drawn to pain, as evident by all the occasions where he was injured, situation where injury could have been avoided.

"Next was Sayid. He spent almost a year on an island in the tropics with a number of survivors of a plain crash, during which he was responsible for providing security for his fellow survivors, and protection from hostile elements that lived in the island. However, he has not spent enough time in Europe and America, places where we are expected to operate the most.

"As for Miss Sax, from what I've read in her files I would assess that she's an intelligent, calm, collected and calculating young woman, capable of strategic planning and lateral thinking. Would you agree to my assessment?"

"Definately. She's saved Priest's life numerous times and has never under-performed, she was mostly the brains behind uncovering Josephine's identity."

"Though lacking certain experiences, she has Priest and Sayid to provide counsel. Also, to be frank, I think Priest thinks highly of her. I believe he is more likely to follow her lead than he is to follow Sayid's."

"You've left out Shaun." Said Nemo, "I suppose he's our Sawyer. Why did you enlist him?"

"He's been trained by Priest and Miss Sax in armed and unarmed combat, I hear he's been an excellent pupil."

"Yes, but its not like we need any more capable fighters on the team. With Kroenen and Priest alone you can confront an army."

"True..." said Al-Sheikh, "I suppose I needed someone who has lost something, to remind them of what kind of enemy they're up against."

"You wouldn't be trying to get revenge for your late wife vicariously through him, a man who has been in your shoes, would you?"

"I… feel sympathetic toward him; that is true. But as I have assured you before, my emotions are out of the equation."

* * *

**Now**

_Metropolis_

Jimmy Olsen looked with fright at the crew of five criminals that had taken over the bank, then shifted his eyes towards the body on the ground by the wall. They had been there only three minutes and already they had killed someone and dispatched of the entire security team. Their leader was currently talking to the manager, while the other woman and the man in the gas mask seemed to be surveying the crowd' another crew member was guarding the silent alarm buttons to keep the cops from arriving.

Olsen knew that they could, and would kill anyone and everyone at any given moment, as their leader seemed to be a psychopath who seemed to have no problem with blowing away that man who tried to attack her. Someone was sure to die unless someone would intervene. And there was only one man could help them.

Jimmy Olsen slowly reached for his watch, that silver Timex given to him as a gift a few years ago. It was a special kind of watch, one capable of summoning a force of unstoppable righteousness.

He pressed the winding knob on the side and put his hand down, knowing that he had done with job undetected. Almost, anyway.

"What did you just do?" asked Shaun as he cocked his shotgun and aimed it at Olsen.

"I didn't do anything!"

"Bastard!" cursed Shaun as he kicked Olsen in the ribs, then reached down and tore the watch from his ribs.

"What is it, Mike?" asked Mona.

"This little shit-bag did something; he pressed something on this watch!"

"I swear I didn't do anything!" said Olsen in panic.

"Anna? Is he telling the truth?"

Lucy approached Olsen and cast one look at him.

"Probably, but I wouldn't know. He has a barrier."

"Damn!" cursed Mona.

"Please, don't hurt me!"

Mona looked with disdain at Olsen and then called for Shaun.

"Mike, take the manager and this little shit, let them drag the dead hero into the cage and lock up after them."

"On it." said Shaun as he aimed his shotgun at Olsen, "Get up, you."

While Shaun forced Olsen and the manager to drag Priest into one of the vaults, Mona spoke quietly, "Sayid?"

_"Yes, I'm here. I heard what happened. Do you think it's a signaling device of some sort?"_

"Maybe, though I don't know what kind of signal device could a kid lie that have. But I'm not taking any chances. What do you see?"

_"Radar readings are normal, nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe it was..."_

"Sayid?"

_"There's something coming in fast. It is airborne, too fast and large to be a bird, flying in too low to be an airplane, it must be-"_

"Yeah, I know who it is." said Mona, "Start the van."

"Charlie!" Mona called out.

"Yeah?" said O'Brien.

"The silent alarm is not a problem anymore." said Mona, "We need you to do that thing we talked about."

"Awesome!" said O'Brien as he jumped from where he was onto the other side of the counter.

"Don't forget the helmet." said Mona, "Superman is coming, go kick his ass."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Superman vs. Plastic Man. Also, Priest scares the living daylights out of Olsen. Featuring Lucy's confession. 


	17. The Metropolis Caper

**Five Days Ago**

_The Volcano_

"My great, great, great grandfather was Johann Wagner; he was Doctor Johann Faustus' assistant." Said Lucy, "Perhaps it was during Faust's parlaying with the forces of darkness that this _gift_ was bestowed on our family line. This gift is endowed upon all of his progeny in some form or another, though some never know they have it, much less learn to harness it. My great grandmother was Ilsa Wagner, who has the gift in a lighter quantity, she had an affair with her cousin Peter, the child was given away to another family. During world war two, Peter oversaw a concentration camp for undesirables, while Ilsa joined the SS under the name of Haupstein. She became Grigori Rasputin's lover and Baron Karl Kroenen's associate… That's part of the reason Kroenen answers to my will. The child that was given up grew up to be Inge Wagner, the eccentric 1960s terrorist. My father died or a drug overdose before he could take his part in making the world a worse place."

Lucy ran a hand through her hair.

"Sometimes I wonder, did the gift of our line come at the price of a curse? Are we Wagners destined for a life of villainy, or was it all a series of chance? The Wagner line will end with me, I will see to it. But there is something else that must be done… I have to prove something."

"What is it?"

"That I am not predestined to become like my predecessors, that in this life, I am free to choose whatever path I wish to choose. I need to prove to myself, the powers that be and to all of creation that there is such a thing as free will…"

* * *

**Now**

_Metropolis, Delaware_

The guardian of Metropolis soared above the building tops, a streak of red in the city sky as he headed toward where the call had came from.

The people believed him to hear everything, which was true, though he had to filter most of it out to find what was significant, such as a sub-sonic frequency that only he could hear, emitted from a device he had given to a young photojournalist as a gift a few years ago.

He expected to be there within mere seconds, he expected to disarm all the perpetrators and rescue any hostages without anyone getting hurt. He did not expect what happened next.

Four seconds and three city blocks away from the bank, he found himself in a mid air collision with another man. It was O'Brien, who had literally slingshot his body to this height. Before the Super-Man could react, O'Brien's lower half had already stretched and wrapped around his torso.

"Aha! Blackguard!"

As the pair halted in mid air, O'Brien pulled his fist back and shot it at the crime fighter with the most powerful punch he ever threw.

"OOOOWWWW! Son of a bitch! You goddamn nearly broke my hand!"

"Get away from me." said Superman angrily as he hurled his own punch and connected with O'Brien's jaw.

* * *

"What the hell were you thinking?" asked the manager as he and Olsen were inside the vault, "They could've killed you! I'm surprised they didn't! Just look at that bastard on the floor!" 

"My watch," stammered Olsen, "It's special. When I press a button on it it send out a signal that only superman can hear. Don't you understand? Superman is coming to save us."

"Motherfucker."

The manager and Olsen slowly turned to the side to watch as the body of the customer that was shot minutes ago started to move.

"Superman's coming?" asked Priest as he got to his feet, the wound in his chest still oozing blood, "Just when I thought this day wasn't going to get any worse."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." Mumbled the manager, filled with shock.

"I'm…ooooh…" muttered Olsen before he fainted and slumped to the ground.

"You're…you're…"

"I'm a part of the goddamn crew." Said Priest as he menacingly inched toward the manager.

"There's only one way we all get out of this alive."

"What is it?"

"I need to get a safety deposit box, number 1007."

"But you need two keys, I have one but..."

Priest pulled a key out of his pocket.

"But I don't understand, why not just-"

"Because this key is stolen, and because we would have been flagged the moment we requested it anyway. Some very bad people would come for us. Did you see the crazy chick with the shotgun and the guy in the gas mask? Those are brownies compared to who would come after us, and after you. Now where's the box?"

* * *

Like a bungee cord, O'Brien's neck stretched to about twenty feet following Superman's punch, and then snapped back to its original length. 

"_aug_h… Alright," O'Brien said, "No more foreplay."

Superman tried to punch O'Brien again, but O'Brien proved to be the pugilist as he was able to duck all blows expertly. He then reached to the back of his belt where a helmet-like black object was fastened; he removed it and with one sudden motion, slapped it on Superman's head, covering it entirely.

"Lead is a wonderful thing." Said O'Brien, "You can't see through it, right?"

Superman was blinded, all that surrounded him then was a tight darkness, one that not even his penetrative vision could overcome. Seeking to rid himself of this sudden handicap, he spun abruptly and quickly in mid air, trying to shake off O'Brien as he floated a hundred feet above the ground.

"Whoa! No need to get mad, big blue!"

O'Brien had clung on tight, and was not about to let loose of Superman. Superman reached to tear the helmet away from his head, but didn't manage doing so. Somehow his hands had been covered with something, a latex-like substance, spherical in shape that prevented him from gripping anything.

"A word to the wise, boyo; if you don't want this kind of things to happen. Don't tell your weaknesses to reporters. Oh, and by the way, I'd advise-"

Superman had already determined that he could neither let loose of this villain, nor could he dispose of the helmet that obstructed his vision. He knew that the man he was grappling with right now was only a diversion to keep him from getting to where he was supposed to be. He had to get rid of both, and he had to do it fast.

"-You not to-"

Before O'Brien could finish, Superman had made the mistake O'Brien was just about to advise him not to make.

"_OUGHH!_"

"You just tried to use your heat-vision to melt your brand new hat, didn't you?" said O'Brien and clucked his tongue, "I was just about to tell you that it's lined with mirrors on the inside. The worst you can do is give yourself a sunburn."

"Why are you doing this?"

" Look, all you have to do is chill for a few minutes and then we'll be out of your hair and-"

"GRAGHHH!"

"Whoa!"

Superman and O'Brien along with him shot up in the air suddenly, traveling heavenward at a high speed.

* * *

The manager placed the metal box on a table, thn stepped aside and watched as Priest to eagerly opened it and picked a thick file out of it, along with a bundle of CDs. 

"Who the hell are you people?"

"We're the good guys." said Priest as he flipped through the file.

"What?"

"I know, odd, isn't it?"

Priest raised his hand to his ear and said,

"Mo- I mean Kate, can you hear me?"

_"Loud and clear, did you get it?"_

"I got it." said Priest as he stuffed the CDs into a pocket in the back of the file, "I'm coming out."

_"We'll be waiting."_

"Let's go," said Priest, stepping over Olsen's unconscious body, "The ginger shit can sleep it off here."

* * *

"Su...Superman... Can't we just get some coffee, talk this through?" 

At thousands of feet above ground, nearing the ionosphere where the temperature dropped drastically, the air got thinner and pressure decressed. O'Brien was finding his winning streak to be nearing its end, he was losing the battle of wills. His gelatinous grasp of Superman's hands was slipping; his legs were aching to return to their natural shape.

"I...oh, momma."

Everything went dark before O'Brien. His hands let go of Superman's, his legs uncurled from around his torso and he fell from where he was taken, plummeting like a rock, hurdling toward the hard merciless ground far below.

In his new found freedom, Superman floated in place for a second, then came down on the helmet he was forced to wear with both fists, shattering the thing to shards of lead and broken glass before he dove toward the earth, racing towards O'Brien plummeting body.

* * *

Sayid's van screeched to a halt in front of the bank, a moment later Shaun came running out, followed by Lucy and Kroenen, and then Mona and Priest who had put on a tight-fitting mask and gloves to block the sunlight. 

"Where the hell is Eel?" asked Shaun as he got into the van.

"Aw, crap." Cursed Priest as he looked upward to see Superman floating above them, holding O'Brien by his collar with one arm, his red cape fluttering in the wind.

"He looks pissed."

"Oh, shit." said Mona as she reached for an assault rifle in the back of the van and got out.

"Mona, that won't work!" said Sayid.

"We'll see if he can stand to get shot in the eyeball." Said Mona as she took her aim, but before she could pull the trigger, she felt the gun heating up in her hands. She managed to barely throw it away before it exploded.

Superman seemed as though he was prepared to make a move, Priest was ready for him.

"DOWN!" cried Lucy at the top of her voice, she then dropped her shotgun, closed her eyes and leaned her head back, spread her arms and legs apart.

"What's she doing?" asked Priest.

"Just get down!" Mona yelled as she hit the pavement.

What happened next was hard to describe, it was an experience like none anyone had experienced before, nor hoped to experience again. In a radius of a hundred feet around the minutemen and Superman, the next few moments stretched on for all eternity, filled with heart felt horror. They were all bombarded with a barrage of unsavory emotions, fear and despair, a dozen nightmares playing at once in each's head. A few motorists crashed into each other, pedestrians fell to the ground and screamed bloody murder, each feeling the clench of hell's teeth. The minutemen were not faring better than any.

"FUUUUCCCCCKK!" cursed Mona as she felt as though her head was about to explode, looking to the side to see Priest growling in a fashion most animalistic and bashing his head against the pavement, trying to dull the pain. Kroenen stood as idly as ever, Lucy remained in her pose. If anyone wasn't too busy in his own pain and horror, he would have been able to draw the occlusion that Lucy was the epicenter of it all.

As for Superman himself, he did not seem to be affected at first. But with the eighth second he dropped O'Brien's still unconscious body onto a parked car. He then raised his hands and clutched his head, before letting out a superhuman scream of unfathomable agony, shattering every nearby window, his heat vision flared up, sending two beams into the sky before he flew away in frantic haste.

Lucy collapsed. Kroenen stood idly by. It took the others half a minute for them to regain their composure, Priest got up and unceremoniously hurled Kroenen into the van, before he and Sayid hurried off to fetch O'Brien who was starting to stir, while Mona dragged Lucy into the van. Once back behind the wheel, Sayid sped off, heading due east towards the docks.

* * *

Hope you liked this two-part caper. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of not entirely pleased with how I handled the S-man, didn't give him the spotlight he deserved. The good this is, this will not b the last time we see him, nor will he be the last superhero to have his ass kicked by the Minutemen. As for the little bits I have at the beginning, Mona's confession last time and Lucy's confession this time, they're what was said at the meeting where they were given their orders. Every chapter one character will get to bear a piece of their souls, there will be a break every three chapters, to keep it from being repetitive. So next confession will be in chapter 17 when it's Priest's turn. **R&R.**

**Next Chapter:** Nemo and co. deal with the unexpected death of a senior member of the League.


	18. Paik Chon wa is Dead

**One Week Later**

_Casablanca, Morocco_

"Paik Chon-wa, Director of the Korean Branch of the League is dead." Said Mason's image, displayed on the flat screen mounted on Al-Sheikh's desk in his office.

"Officially, the cause of death was a heart attack in Paik's sleep. Paik was a heavy drinker with a history of heart problems."

"I suppose you believe there might be foul play?" asked Al-Sheikh, "In that case, I'm inclined to concur."

"The question is, if Paik's death was orchestrated, then by whom?"

"It wasn't us," Al-Sheikh said, "Of that alone we are sure. Paik was a ruthless criminal and captain of industry; I imagine he has a long list of enemies. Then of course, there is the League… To refer to the League as a pit of vipers would be a grave insult to vipers."

"Nemo contact me, he said he is heading to Seoul to investigate."

"I know," said Al-Sheikh as he searched his desk drawers for a pack of cigarettes, "Priest did not come into Morocco with his team mates, he accompanied Nemo to assist and translate. Hopefully that will give them a chance to reconcile."

"Or kill one another."

"There's that. Still, Priest is the only member of the opposition to speak Korean."

"Hmmm. Alright, what does Paik's death, orchestrated or natural, mean for us?"

"There's been talk about moving the League's East Asian command from Seoul to Tokyo. To tell you the truth, if that happened then it would be a boon to us, I have slightly more clout in Japan than I do in Korea, and we have so far not been able to find new operatives for the Korean cell, however we have two members of the opposition, Mister Hanzo and Mister O'Shaughnessy who could start right away."

"Right." Mason said, "I'll contact my Agent within the League and order the proper enquiries. Goodbye, Naif."

* * *

**One Week Ago**

_The Volcano_

Mona felt footsteps approaching from behind her as she stood in the infirmary by Lucy who lay unconscious on a gurney, her vitals getting checked by Dr. Robert. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that it was Barbossa.

"'Llo, love."

"Hey."

"Is she going to get better?"

"She'll be alright." Said Barbossa, "The last time she did this, she was out of it for a day and then it was like nothing had happened. "

"This happened before?" asked Mona, "What exactly did she do?"

"She did it once before, when she and the members of her cell were cornered. She said that she focuses psychic energy, bombarding enemies' minds with a painful effect; the psychic equivalent of tear gas. She doesn't do it very often, it drains her. Even when she's back it takes her some time to regain her abilities."

"Why did she attack us?"

"She didn't. The last time she did this, her cell was affected as well. From what I gathered, she is not terribly adept at this, and since she did it on the spot, she couldn't spare everyone some shrapnel. And this time, with the power of the Super-Man and his resilience, she might have had to go a little bit too far."

"If what we got was shrapnel, I'd hate to know what its like to get hit in full force."

"You and me both, pet. So tell me, how does it feel?"

"It's weird." Said Mona, "I'm alright, now. I know that it was horrible at the time, but once she passed out, we were all fine in less than a minute. I don't remember what it was like, it feels like it happened to someone else. Priest, on the other hand is a big girl. He's still puking buckets. Vampire quirk, I suppose."

* * *

**Two Days from Now**

_Seoul, Korea_

Priest rested his head against the window, looking out at the darkness descending on Seoul.

"I thought we were supposed to be here to see if the story of Paik's death was true or not." Said Priest tiredly, "That's over and done with, why aren't we under water by now?"

"I have to contact Gaum-ja."

"Didn't she quit?" Said Priest a she baked away from the window and rested his head back.

"That was when there was a Seoul branch, that soon may change. In that case the circumstances will be different. We'll need her to be our eyes and ears in Seoul."

A few minutes of cold, uncomfortable silence passed as the taxi driver made his way through the streets, before Nemo said,

"I hope you know that the only reason you're here is that you're the only one to speak the language."

"Yeah, I figured that one out on my own."

Another minutes passed, more uncomfortable and colder than before. It was interrupted by the driver making an illegal turn and coming close to a collision with a garbage truck.

"Tell the driver to slow down!"

_"We want to live, drive like a sane person."_ translated Priest.

_"Right. Sorry."_

"There, satisfied?"

Nemo sighed.

"Priest… It has been brought to my attention that shooting you in the neck was in a morally gray area, perhaps in one of the darker shades of gray."

"If this is some kind of an apology, you've already failed."

"It's not. You deserve to be shot in the neck."

Priest rested his head against the window again, mumbling,

"Yeah, I suppose I did."

"Still, it wasn't my place to be judge, jury and executioner. My own past is far from laudable."

"So... Bygones?"

"More or less." Said Nemo.

"So, we're clearing out, huh?" Priest asked, "No more hiding in a volcano?"

"That's the idea. We're as of now back to our previous protocol. You will be delivered to Casablanca as soon as we're done here."

"That's good. Now let me ask you something, do you usually recruit all the low level informants yourself?"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying that it hardly seems fit for one of the captains to do something like this."

"We are already here, and Gaum-ja has served us loyally, it is the least I could do."

"Sure, maybe." Said Priest, "Or maybe not. I also find it interesting that after all this time Mona is still 'Miss Sax', but Gaum-ja is Gaum-ja."

"What do you know, anyway?"

Priest closed his eyes and looked up with a smile, folding his hands behind his head.

"I know you two slept together on New Year's."

A few more minutes of charged awkward silence followed, until Nemo said,

"How?"

"How did I know? I have an eye for these things, I also caught a whiff of you on the following morning and it hit me in the face like a wrecking ball."

"You will not speak of this to anyone."

"Why would you want to hide this? Gaum-ja is a pretty little thing, and to be frank, I'm gad you have the same urges as the rest of us."

The cab screeched to a halt, the driver mumbled something in Korean.

"He said that we're here." Same Priest with a wide, smug smirk. He opened his eyes and looked to the side as Nemo got out of the car.

"Want me to com with?"

"No. Stay here, keep the taxi waiting."

"Oh, you don't want me to cramp your style. Alright, go baldy forward, Dakkar. Have no fear, just lay back and think of England."

* * *

Gaum-ja placed the cup of tea on the saucer on the old wooden table, then pushed the saucer gently forward to within Nemo's reach. Nemo had just told her what they had found out in the past two months, of what Phoenix turned out to be. Oddly enough, Gaum-ja seemed to be taking it calmer than anyone else.

"Thank you." Said Nemo as he picked up the cup and took a sip from it.

"How is everyone?" asked Gaum-ja in an accented English, "How is Mona?"

"Mona is fine."

"And the opposition?"

"They're fine as well. We've resumed our operations, recruited new personnel. I trust you heard of what happened to Paik?"

"Of course."

"There is talk that the League will be moving their East Asian base of operations to Tokyo, the branch here will be dissolved, replaced by a station. If that happens, we will need someone here to act as a sort of surveyor."

"No."

"It would be a low risk assignment, all you would have to do is monitor, and you might not have to do that. We might never even need your-"

"No, Dakkar." Said Gaum-ja, looking away.

Nemo quietly set the cup back down, then slowly stood up, calmly saying,

"Alright. I guess I will be leaving, then."

Nemo walked to the door, feeling a slight measure of anger and embarrassment. He stopped as he heard the call.

"Wait."

"What is it?" asked Nemo as he turned around. Gaum-ja got up from where she sat and walked toward him, until she was within inches of him.

"Why did you come here?"

"There is a war coming. We'll need every man and woman we can get."

"Why did you come here?"

"I was in the country to investigate Paik's death. We have no contacts here as of yet, I thought I could persuade you to come back to work for us."

"Why did you come here, Dakkar?"

Nemo looked down, and to Gaum-ja, his calm, confident veneer seemed to rack and reveal how jaded and tired he really was.

"I missed you." Said Nemo.

"Thank you." Said Gaum-ja as she inched closer to him, their lips meeting for a kiss.

"We… We can't."

"Yes, we can." Said Gaum-ja running her hand through Nemo's raven locks of hair.

"Gaum-ja, when happened between us…"

"Do you really think it was a mistake?"

"…. No. I have made mistakes in my life, buy you were not one of them."

"Then don't go." Said Gaum-ja as she kissed Nemo again.

"I must."

"Don't, not now."

Nemo didn't want to leave; he couldn't remember any reason why he should.

"It gets so lonely, Dakkar…"

* * *

"Wow." Said Priest as he saw Nemo stepping out of the building as he leaned against the cab, "Almost a whole hour, must have had all kinds of _talk_. Probably cuddled, too."

"Shut up, Priest." Said Nemo as he got into the car, "I don't want to talk about it."

"We don't need to talk, I can smell. But sure thing. So, is she with us?" asked Priest as he got in himself.

"Yes, she's in."

"Good, 'cause you've just racked up a ridiculous cab fare. "

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Harmony returns, the minutemen have a new assignment. Featuring Judas Priest's confession.


	19. The Grudge

**Twelve Days Ago**

_The Volcano_

Priest looked all around himself, at the looks of disbelief and slight ridicule. When it was his turn to say why he was in that room, about to embark on the minutemen's mission, he had told them a lie. The lie itself is not of significance, what matters is that his dishonesty was quickly revealed, through a discrepancy in his tale with true tales of his past that he had told Mona.

"This is about trust," said Al-Sheikh, "Yet you tell lies when everybody else is baring their soul."

"Well what the hell do you want? Do you want me to tell that I feel sorry for all the people I've killed in the centuries I've seen? Well **I don't**."

Silence fell, Priest's lack of remorse for past evils coming as a surprise.

"In Scotland, I killed kids, five year olds, younger even. I was an orphaner, a widow-maker, a terror; a ruddy living nightmare. I did everything terrible that could be inflicted on another. When I left and traveled the world I grew less prolific, but I did kill. It wasn't until I was nearly a hundred and sixty did I stop killing for sport. When I joined the government Uncle Sam gave me free reign to kill the enemy, I fought Italians and German soldiers and did it diligently. I killed in Korea and in the coldest, darkest corners of Soviet Russia... And I'm sorry to tell you this, but I'm as about eaten up with guilt over killing a little girl in Scotland in 1745 as I am over killing an SS officer in 1945. I have no remorse. Believe me, I wish I did. I want to be sorry for what I did; I know I should, but... _I'm not!_ _**I can't!**_ If I could do it all over again, I would do everything different. I would not shed a drop of innocent blood. But as it stands, I have no guilt. And you know the funniest thing? Do you want to split your sides laughing? Do you want to know why I'm here, why I want to join this unit?

"I haven't slept for two months." said Priest calmly, though with a hint of grim desperation in his voice, "Ever since the night we all found out why thirty-one people are dead, because of me and my inability to let things go. Whenever I'm alone, all I can think about, all I can see when I close my eyes is they and how I doomed them all over an old grudge."

* * *

**Now**

_Casablanca, Morocco_

Shaun dropped his cigarette at the gate of _Rick's Café and Hotel_ before heading in. He eluded the apathetic receptionist and headed directly toward the elevator. He pressed the number for the fourth floor and stood back to wait.

Arriving at his floor, he exited and walked down the corridor to room 23. He hesitated as he stood at the door, and then knocked unsurely.

A few second later the door was unbolted and opened, revealing Priest standing behind it, bare-footed and wearing Jeans and a white t-shirt.

"Shaun."

"Hey, Jude."

"I suppose you want to come in."

Priest spoke to Shaun noticeably formally, his tone was entirely bland, neither fond nor spiteful. Shaun walked in, and took a look around the room as Priest bolted the door again. The room was less than immaculate, leftover room service and empty bottles of drink were everywhere, as were several yellow legal pads filled with writing in blue.

"Frank, did you see my towel?"

Shaun looked toward the bedroom where a slight brunette woman stepped out, she took notice of Shaun and stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, hi." She said in an American accent.

"Tricia," Priest said, "This is Mike Gallagher, my associate. Mike, Tricia McMillan."

"It's a pleasure."

"Hi." Said Tricia with a smile as she headed for the door, "Umm… I'd love to stay and talk but I _really_ have to get going."

"Want to catch up tonight?" asked Priest.

"Sure, if I can get away early. Bye, Mike."

"G'Bye."

Tricia got out and closed the door behind her. Shaun turned toward Priest and asked,

"Who was that?"

"She told you, her name is Tricia."

"And?"

"She's a physicist."

"…And?"

"And she giggles in bed."

"I meant… Forget it."

Priest went further into the suite, and sat on the sofa, the raised his feet on the coffee table which was littered with crumpled piece of papers and full legal pads.

"Do you want a drink?" asked Priest as he started scribbling, occasionally stealing glances at the TV that was playing an old Humphrey Bogart movie.

"It's nine in the morning."

"Hmm."

A minute of uncomfortable silence passed as Shaun tried to think of something to say.

"What are you doing?" asked Shaun, instantly feeling foolish for being unable to come up with anything better.

"Writing my memoirs."

"Memoirs? What, are you dying?"

Priest looked up at Shaun blankly, then back at his writing as he went on.

"It was a joke." Said Shaun awkwardly, "Seriously, why are you Bertie Wooster, all of a sudden?"

"When you're an insomniac you have to find something to fill your days and night with… Besides, this place brings back memories."

"What place? You mean this hotel?"

"It wasn't always a hotel. Before it was a hotel it used to a nightclub, the biggest in Casablanca. Back in the forties, this was the place to be, everyone came here; Vichy supporters, the SS, people trying escape all of the above. I came here in '43 after my first mission for the government, back then the place was being run by a man who worked for the O.S.S."

"What's that?"

"That was the C.I.A. before it was the C.I.A. Do you want a drink?"

"… It's still nine in the morning."

"I know; I just assumed you might need a drink to say why you're really here."

Shaun hung his head.

"You got me. Listen… A few weeks ago I said something that wasn't true, I was angry and I was frustrated and I said things to hurt you, things that I didn't mean."

"No, you did mean them." Said Priest as he stood up and stood by the window, looking at the drapes blocking out the sun, touching the fabric lightly with his finger tips.

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did mean them. You do blame me for what happened to Liz. You might know that I didn't mean or want Liz to get hurt, you might not hate me for it, but that doesn't change the fact that deep down, you think that it's my fault."

"Jude-"

"It's alright, Shaun. You're right; I am the one to blame. If I was a better kind of person or someone else entirely, the chances are that Liz would be alive. Liz would be alive, she'd be four months pregnant and you'd still be in London, tending bar at the Winchester, happy as a lark."

"I-"

"Don't bullshit a bullshitter, Shaun."

"You're right, I do blame you." Said Shaun, "But I'll get over it, eventually."

"No you won't." Priest said as he brushed the drapes aside and pressed the palm of his hand against the glass, feeling in the exquisite pain of simmering flash, embracing every nanosecond of it. Shaun watched on in fascinated horror, the sizzling odor reaching his nostrils.

"I'm an old man; I know an everlasting grudge when I see one."

* * *

_London_

"Do you have a light?" asked Harmony, holding a cigarette in her fingers.

"Since when do you pick up the habit?" said Mernae as she took a matchbox out of her purse and placed it on the bench.

"You know how it is."

Harmony picked up the lighter and lit her cigarette as an order of sushi arrived for Mernae. The waiter curled his nose in disgust as Harmony sipped some sake and took a long drag of smoke.

"So what did you find out?" asked Mernae as she picked up a piece of cucumber with a pair of chopsticks.

"Mason is right; the Seoul branch is getting shut down. Their employees are being attached to various Korean government agencies. By next month all that will be left is a station with a staff of fifteen, tops."

"Did you happen to find where the League are moving their East Asia base to?"

"Tokyo. They've already bought and fitted the headquarters."

"How do the have lined up to replace Paik?"

"A guy called Jeimuzu Suzuki."

"Never heard of him. How do you spell it?"

"J-E-I-M-U-Z-U."

"Got it. What can you tell me about him?"

"He's in his forties, I guess that makes him the youngest branch head ever. He used to be a big man in Japanese Intelligence in the nineties, wiped out an upstart Ninja organization by himself. He wasn't their only choice, first they considered a guy called Light something. The deputy director of the French Branch, Sofie Fatale was also considered, since she already had underworld connections in Tokyo. But Bond decided on Suzuki, Light was too young and kinda bonkers, I guess the French Branch couldn't spare Sofie Fatale."

"That's impressive. I never hoped to get all this information at once. How did you manage it?"

"_ugh…_ Bond passed out on top of me. I got a chance to look through his briefcase."

"Right. What about Paik?"

"Bond had his doubt at first, but after an autopsy by the League's top scientists, they decided that he wasn't killed by monkeys in business suits.

"He looks kinda torn up about him. He flew over for his Funeral. He's flying over to inaugurate the Tokyo branch next week."

"Bond was a long time friend of his." Said Mernae as she dipped her chopsticks into her food, "Long before Paik amassed his power and wealth, he used to be an MI-6 agent in North Korea, where he worked in the black market. When Bond gained some connections in the League, he pulled a few strings to get Paik started up in south Korea. Yeah, they were old pals. Bond is an old pal of a lot of the Branch directors; Leiter, Robur and el-Kherish are all people he'd known as far as the seventies at least. What else did you find out?"

"Suzuki is meeting him here in London for the first time this week. I'll get you the when and where as soon as possible."

"Thanks," said Mernae with a mouth full of radish, "Wow. You've gotten this down to a habit."

"Yeah." Said Harmony, despondently.

"Is everything alright?"

"Everything's fine."

"How're you and Bond?"

"He still grabs my ass all the time, if that's what you mean." Said Harmony and gestured toward her empty glass, the waiter came and filled it with sake.

"I thought he'd loose interest by now."

"That's why we picked you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the tarts Bond are used to are around him for a few months at a time, four tops. Eventually he gets tired of them and ships them off to whatever station that's lacking employees at the moment. You, on the other hand, have an advantage above all others. How old were you when you died? I mean when you became a vampire."

"Seventeen."

"There you go."

"What, you mean he's-"

"He's randy for you because you look like you're seventeen and you always will, also you won't get tired of the Vodka martini soaked orgy that is the life Bond cannot let go of."

"Eww."

"Yeah. Bond is a dirty, old, sexist cold-war relic. It's no wonder at all that Sofie Fatale got shafted for the Tokyo office. That wanker couldn't stand the idea of a branch being headed up by a woman."

"What about Emma Peel, and Josephine?"

"Emma Peel is an old mate of his, and he mostly lets her do P.R. work, anyway." Said Mernae, then chuckled, "Mason often jokes that Bond never got her into bed when they were both working for British Intelligence, on the count of Peel being married back then, so he feels compelled to keep her around, hoping to bag that last cougar.

"As for Josephine, he can't afford not to keep her. She's been with the League for ages and she's good at what she does."

"He hates her, you know. Just hearing the name Josephine, or even Joe gets him in a bad mood. Why do you think that is?"

"I'm not sure. Bond's still living in the sixties, where female spies' job was to keep a firm chest in a low-cut blouse and be ready for a sex romp at any time."

"You mean like me." Said Harmony as she sipped her sake.

"What? No! Darling, I didn't mean it that way."

"It's okay." Said Harmony as she picked up her purse and stood up from her seat, Pay for my sake, alright? Next time, I'll pay you back."

"Harmony, wait!" called Mernae.

But Harmony was already gone.

* * *

_Casablanca_

The minutemen sat wherever they could in Priest's hotel suite, Mona, Lucy and Priest on the sofa. Sayid and O'Brien on a pair of arm chairs and Shaun leaned against a cabinet. Al-Sheikh stood at the front of the room, explaining the reason they were called together.

"Before Forrest Gump was justly executed, he confessed to everything he did, the what and the how. He told you that he'd been recruited in M.I.T. and trained combat and intelligence gathering. He was hand-picked by Josephine herself, and her assistant, Mandy Hughes was designated to be his handler. His job was to collect clues and bits of intelligence that could alert the League whenever we decide to launch a significant operation, or aid them in the hunt for the four captains.

"Realizing the list of electronic delivery, Gump used a series of drops and spoke to Hughes over the phone once every two weeks. He's met with her only once every six months, three times since he's been with us."

"How come?" asked Shaun.

"Deep cover dictates such practices." Explained Al-Sheikh, "There is a good chance that the League knows we're back in operation, after the Metropolis job. It's possible that they do not know yet, and more inclined to think that was a bizarre, yet mundane robbery. But we're going to operate to assume we haven't.

"Knowing that we've resurfaced, the League will expect Gump to contact them. This gives us an advantage, to pass them misleading intelligence for months to come."

"They're going to twig on, aren't they?" asked Shaun.

"Yes, eventually. But we'll make hay while they're in the dark, and I have reasons to believe we will have moved on to bigger operations by then."

"After all this time in hibernation," Priest said, "Gump will have to contact Hughes before going back undercover. None of this will work unless they meet Gump, and Gump is as dead as Charles Foster Kane."

"Thank you, Priest. Your powers of pointing out the obvious continues to serve this unit well." Said Al-Sheikh sarcastically, "We've got that covered. Eel?"

"Yeah?"

"You can expand any part of your anatomy, correct?"

"Oh, Yeah." Said O'Brien with a suggestive smile and a nod at Lucy.

"You lookin' at me, punk?" asked Priest with some hostility.

"To which shapes?"

"Pretty much anything. I was once cornered by cops in furniture store; I give them the slip by shaping my body into a lazy boy."

"Alright. Can you stretch your facial muscles?"

"What? Yeah, I suppose. Why?"

"Could you change your face's shape to match that of Forrest Gump?"

"You know… I guess so. Huh, that would be kind of cool."

"You want O'Brien to pose as Gump when he goes and meets Gump's handler?"

"Precisely."

"Alright, this is gonna be awesome." Said O'Brien cheerfully.

"No, it won't." said Al-Sheikh, walking up to O'Brien as he sat in his armchair.

"You have learn to contort your face's shape into that of Gump, down to the last pore and you'll have to learn to maintain that shape. That won't be it."

O'Brien shrunk in his seat, feeling Al-Sheikh's intimidating presence in full.

"You will have to learn to manipulate your vocal cords to sound like Gump, and you'll have to learn his mannerisms, adopt his accent, emulate his general attitude. And you have two days to do all that."

"_gulp…_How the hell am I gonna do that?"

"Find a way." Said Al-Sheikh as he gave O'Brien his back, then walked away from him, "Your teammates will help you till then and coach your progress. I'll arrange for the meeting and contact the handler as Gump. When you're meeting with Hughes, your teammates will provide back-ups and extract you should the operation fail."

* * *

**One Day Later**

_The Red October_

"You sound like you just stepped out of a bar in south Boston." Said Priest as he leaned over O'Brien's shoulder while Sayid and Jimmy Saint stood nearby, leaning against the wall.

The three were in a chamber, rehearsing for the big event. O'Brien features were momentarily those of Gump, a task that he managed to achieve within six hours of the minutemen's meeting with Al-Sheikh. The voice change took the rest of the day. The accent however proved to be quite challenging.

"Boy, I wish I did." Said O'Brien as he shifted in his seat, "I'd much rather be drunk than with the you three, right now."

"And I'd rather be eyeballing Mona's arse while she's not looking, but here we are."

"He sounds close enough." Said Sayid.

"Yeah," Jimmy said, "Accent's fine."

"No, it isn't. It's too genuine."

"I'm from Boston." Said O'Brien "My accent IS genuine. But please, tell us. How did Gump sound?"

Priest sighed as he crouched by a wall.

"Gump was the bastard son of a mentally handicapped shrimper from Greenbow, Alabama. He turned out cleaver, but it still gave him a chip on his shoulder. You can bet that his classmates at M.I.T. gave him hell for it, so he became an arrogant bastard, started using a Boston Brahmin accent. It wasn't bad, but he was too self-conscious that he sometimes went overboard, trying to hide it. Sometimes his southern drawl came out regardless."

"…Fine." Said O'Brien in a grunt, and then adopted an accent, saying, "You're being too anal."

"I haven't been anal since 1876." Priest said with a smirk, "And that was much better. Say something else."

Shaun looked on from the corridor outside, listening t footsteps that came from around the corridor.

"How's the training going?" asked Mona as she emerged.

"Better, I suppose."

"Shaun, we need to talk about something."

"What do you mean?"

"About where we're going."

"There's nothing to talk about. We're going to London; it's as simple as that."

"If you want to sit this one out, we'll understand. The situation is overkill anyway. It's only been two months."

"It's almost three." Said Shaun, then straightened up and walked away, "I'm going."

Mona watched as Shaun walked down the dark corridor, sining to himself as the four inside the chamber were arguing again, singing,

"_'London calling to the zombies of death…quit holding out and draw another breath…'_"

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** The minutemen descend upon London. Will O'Brien pull it off? Will Shaun be able to handle being back in a city filled with bad memories? Will Jimmy cross paths with his old flame, Mernae Waths (a.k.a. Whatsername)? Will Mona ever catch Priest looking at her ass?

Only one way to find out. Tune in tomorrow, same opposition channel, same oposition time.


	20. London Calling

**Two Weeks Ago**

_The Volcano_

"Me?" asked O'Brien, "Oh, thanks. Errr... Hi, my name is Patrick O'Brien, but by friends call me Eel. I'm from Boston and I..errr... Well, I used to be a crook.

"Patrick O'Brien, my namesake and my great great grandfather arrived in New York back in 1846. Right off the boat he joined the Army. When the civil war was over, he found himself a nice girl called Molly Vallon and moved to Boston where he became a teacher. He had a few kids, they grew up to be cops, all good men, all but one dead in the line of duty. My grandfather had kids of his own; they became cops and soldiers, plus one city councilman. And they had kids of their own themselves, myself and a cousin who died very young.

"Four generations, all good, honest, hard-working Americans. I guess the fifth wasn't so hot. Maybe I'm just different; I'm a half-assed catholic, dropped out of school, got into fights all the time, arrested for shoplifting twice before I grew pubes.

"My parents died in a car accident. I went to live with my grandma… Everybody thought I was no good, everybody thought I was a rotten apple, but grann didn't. She used to say that I'd grow up alright, and that was an O'Brien and that we always find our way. I wanted to do her proud.

"But I got kicked out of high-school and fired from half a dozen jobs. I wasn't cut out for an honest living, so I joined up with Frank Costello's outfit, became a thief, a safecracker. I found out that I was good at it, and that I loved it. My grandma knew nothing of it, she didn't talk to much and had gotten so sick that she never left home. I told her that I joined the army; whenever I was abut to go to the slammer, or lay low somewhere I'd pass her word that I was being shipped overseas.

"So there was this one job; a heist in a chemicals plant where we knew the owner was hiding south African conflict diamonds. What I didn't know was that the owner was hiding something for the League, something with nukes, Water-something…"

"Heavy water?" asked Priest.

"That's it! Heavy water. Anyway, the cops were tipped off, they were on us like brown on shit, there was a shootout. I didn't shoot anybody, though, I don't like guns... I mean no offense 'cause I know Mona loves guns but anyway, one of them hit a gas canister and the whole places exploded... The heavy water was evaporated and I was near it.. I... I don't know, I guess something happened and I blacked out...

"When I woke up I was ten feet tall, literally. It took a little while before the pain stopped and I managed to get away, it took a couple of days before my body got back to normal. I then found out what happened…

"The night of the robbery, the cops went to my grandma's and told her that I died during a robbery. It broke her heart, and it stopped in her sleep, filled with her sorrow and grief…. She died thinking that the last O'Brien was a rotten no good two bit thief.

"I tried to make it better. I decided to be a superhero like that guy in Metropolis, but I sucked at it. The only time I did any real crime fighting was when I accidentally broke a woman's foot whose dead husband was chopped up and laying in the trunk of her car. Then Raimus caught up with me and told me about the League and how they owned the heavy water that made me what I am, I joined him and worked in Caracass.

"As I said, I'm a bad catholic, but I know that grann is looking down on me, both figuratively and literally. I want to prove her last thought about me wrong."

* * *

**Now**

_London_

O'Brien in the guise of Gump walked down the street toward the Chestnut café, nervously adjusting his collar. His hair was dyed to match Gump's sandy blond locks and it made him itch, he swore in his mind never to let Lucy give him another dye-job ever again.

_"Relax. You'll do fine."_ Said Al-Sheikh through the microphone lodged in his ear.

"Really? It feels like I'm about to puke buckets."

Across the city in the dock Red October, Al-Sheikh stood with Raimus in a room set for communications.

"All minutemen report." Said Al-Sheikh, "Kate?"

"I'm tops." Said Mona as she stood with a sniper rifle in her hands, looking out the window of an empty room in a building overlooking the street in which the café was.

"I can see Gump right now. But Hughes is out my range of fire."

"That's alright. Ali, Michael."

"We're alright." Said Sayid as he looked out the window of a can he and Shaun sat in, across the street at the café, "We can see both Gump and Hughes."

"Saint, Frank?"

"I'm peachy keen, boss." Said Jimmy as he set up a portable camera of the car's dashboard, while Priest lay in the backseat under a thick blanket, "Count Choculla; not so much."

"Ha ha." Priest said under the blanker, "Very funny."

"Anna?"

Lucy was inside the Chestnut café, sipping an espresso and pretending to read a copy of the Guardian, stealing glances at Mandy who sat at a table by herself.

"I'm fine." She said in a whisper, to not draw any attention to her. "She has a man with her, they're sitting at different tables and pretending not to know each other, but he works for her."

"What does he look like?"

"Big man, early forties, blue suit. He has a laptop. I think he might be her security. Gump just walked in."

"Alright, everybody stay sharp. Anna, keep _listening_ for anything."

O'Brien went directly to Mandy's table and sat down at the free seat opposite to her.

"Mandy," said O'Brien, adopting the Gump impression he'd managed to perfect in two days, "How's it going?"

"It's Miss Hughes to you, Mr. Gump." Said Mandy, "Charles, go ahead."

The man at the second table tapped a few buttons on his lap top, without looking at them he said in a Yorkshire accent, "I'm going to scan you for spyware. This'll just take a second."

Prior to leaving the Red October a few hours ago, O'Brien was fitted with a tiny microphone in his ear. Al-Sheikh said that it was Nemo's invention, and that it could avoid detection by almost any scanner that the League could bring to the café. O'Brien then asked him if that meant that there was a small chance that he would get caught.

Al-Sheikh simply laughed at the time, mumbled something in Arabic that made Priest chuckle, then slapped him friendlily on the shoulder before he left.

O'Brien was careful not to hold his breath under Al-Sheikh's instruction, but he was as nervous as hell in those fateful second.

"He's clean. Now, what was your mother's maiden name?"

"Jenny Curran." Said O'Brien.

"Voice pattern recognition matches."

"Thank you, Charles. You can wait in the car."

"Yes, ma'am."

As soon as Charles was gone, Mandy took a plastic inhaler from her purse. She held it to her lips and pressed a button, whispering,

"This is Mandy Hughes. The following is a recording of my meeting with Agent Forrest Thomas Gump, the date is June 23 of 2008."

Mandy placed the disguised voice recorder on the table, then picked up her cup of black coffee and asked,

"What happened?"

"According to protocol, I convinced Sands to give us the night off, myself and Hunting. We were drinking together while the operation was on, but two of their off-the-books operatives just happened to stumble into that bar in East London, the Winchester. They managed to get word to their bosses, who pulled their people out."

"Who were these off-the-books operatives?"

"A woman called Mona Sax, assassin, ex-organized crime, and one Judas Priest, vampire, ex-military. They used to be the Gotham cell."

"Alright, so the four Captains rounded the survivors up and took them where?"

"An island in the tropics, uninhabited and uncharted for all I know. I have no idea where it is."

"What happened on the island?"

"Lots of paranoia. They tried to figure out who was it that betrayed them, after two months of interrogations and probing; they decided that the mole was gone, one of the many who disappeared."

"They didn't suspect you?"

"They did, myself and Hunting; being conveniently out at the time and all. I played it cool, passed the lie detector tests and my psychic upgrade held up fine. I think they suspected Hunting was the mole more than they suspected me."

"Nice Alabaman boy like you," said Mandy, subtly-mockingly, "Why wouldn't they?"

"…Yeah." Said O'Brien, feigning swallowed-pride.

"How long were you on the island?"

Outside, Sayid listened to the conversation on the van's radio.

_"Two weeks."_

_"And where did you go then?"_

_"The three submarines submerged and docked at the bottom of the ocean not sure which one. They set up passageways between them all to make sort of a headquarters at the bottom, far from any commercial lines and preying eyes."_

Sayid casually look up, to see Shaun staring out the window with intensity. He was breathing heavy and had broken a sweat.

"Shaun?"

Shaun kept staring out, breathing loudly from the mouth, with a quickening pace.

"Shaun? What's wrong?"

Shaun started trembling as he was breathing faster than ever.

"SHAUN!" said Sayid as he grabbed Shaun's shoulder.

"What?" asked Shaun, his breathing back to normal and his jitters gone.

"You tell me, what. What's wrong?"

Shaun looked down for a moment.

"It's this café; we used to come here all the time."

"Who?"

"Me and Liz. We made plans to come the following day, the night they killed her."

"Oh." Said Sayid, letting go of Shaun who went back to staring out the window, though this time he did it with composure.

"I'm sorry."

"S'Alright, Sayid."

"You know, Shaun, We have all this covered. You could walk away, take a cab back to the docks, back to the Pearl. The rest of us can handle this by ourselves. You don't need to be here."

Shaun looked out the window. He did not look at the Chestnut café, he didn't care about it. The fact was, Shaun had never been to this street before in his life, much less the café. Shaun was staring at the man in the blue suit who stood having a smoke outside the café.

"Yes, I do."

"What about MacGuffin?" asked Mandy back in the café.

"It's not MacGuffin; it's Talbot." Said O'Brien, "His story checked out. The captains hooked him with a new identity, gave him some sorry-for-you-troubles money and dropped him off in Australia."

"Alight. What is the opposition as it stands right now?"

"A lot of people have dropped out. The McManus brothers, the Af-"

"We're not interested in those." Said Mandy, "They're just bottom of the food chain enforcers."

"Alright. Structurally, they're going to keep all cells off-the-books, communication with intelligence would pass through the four captains using call-signs. They've talked about decentralizing the intelligence wing, or even keep it mobile. Jack Mason has taken over coordinating intelligence. My guess is that they won't be at it forever, sooner or later they'll move closer to the old model. Everything is in my report."

O'Brien then produced a memory chip that he placed on the table by the voice recorder.

"Well done, Mr. Gump. Josephine will be pleased. Speaking of which, she's been thinking about pulling you out, saying that the risk of you getting caught is too high."

"The risk has always been high."

"Do you want to go back undercover?"

"Want might not be the right word. But I'm in, they trust me. I know the ropes, the game and the players very well."

"I agree. It'll be Josephine's call, but I don't think she'll think different. We'll get in touch via e-mail, if we Josephine does agree to the continuation of your mission we'll establish a new set of drops. Meeting's over."

Mandy picked up the voice recorder, pressed the off button then placed the thing in her purse.

"Don't get up yet, Gump."

"What is it?"

"The people who tracked down Talbot, they were the ex-Gotham cell, right?"

"Yeah, it's all in my report."

"So they were the ones who found out about Josephine's real identity?"

"Yeah. That made them kind of popular on the island."

Jimmy sat listening to the meeting in the car, with Priest still under a blanket.

_"So you too have learned her true identity."_

_"Is that a question?"_

_"Did you?"_

_"I couldn't help it…Why, did you want to know it?"_

_"…No. You can go now."_

_"Minutemen, proceed to leave as planned."_ Said Al-Sheikh through the team's ear-pieces.

"Man, what was all that about?" asked Jimmy as he picked the camera off of his dashboard and turning it off after Mandy got into Charles' car and headed off. Lucy walked out soon after, followed by O'Brien a short while later.

"Isn't it obvious?" said Priest.

"Apparently it isn't."

"Mandy Hughes is Josephine's lover."

"I know. Would you mind cutting to the chase, Doctor Crane?"

"She's Josephine's lover, she doesn't know her real name. Gump, however, does know her name, and he's just an employee. That has to put a strain on a relationship."

Sayid and Shaun's van drove down the street past Jimmy's car. A minute later, Mona walked out of a building holding a briefcase containing her disassembled rifle and got into the passenger seat. Jimmy drove off.

* * *

**Later**

_The Red October_

The minutemen sat in their _operations room_ aboard the Red October, discussing this afternoon's simple but critical mission.

"Good work, everyone." Said Al-Sheikh, "Especially our man of many faces, Mister O'Brien."

"Thanks, boss."

"I truly expected you to fail, but you were most competent. As it turns out you are not a complete idiot as I had once thought."

"Umm…Thanks, I guess."

"Now we just have to wait to see if the League swallowed our bait."

"Excuse me," said Shaun with a raised hand, "What about the other bloke, I think his name was Charles."

"What about him?"

"Shouldn't we check who he is?"

"There really is no need to."

"Still, we should cover our bases." Said Shaun nervously, "Lucy, do you have any idea what his name was?"

"Umm… I think I heard the name Charles Chellios. But I think he was just her security, he was not even allowed to listen to them as they spoke."

"Yeah, Shaun." Said Mona, "You're over thinking this."

"I guess I am." Said Shaun as he got up, "I think I'll go check on Jimmy."

"If you wish." Said Al-Sheikh, "I believe Captain Raimus would like us to have dinner with him tonight in honor of this success."

"If this means I'll finally get to see you stinking drunk, Al-Sheikh," said Priest, "Then there is no forces that can stop me from seeing that."

* * *

Jimmy was packing his belongings in his room when Jimmy came knocking on the chamber's steel door.

"Hey, Shaun. What's up? Came to see me off?"

"Yeah. I heard you'll be based here from now on."

"Yep. Working as Mason's sidekick."

"Give him my best."

"Sure thing, buddy."

"Listen, Jim. I need to ask you a favor."

"What kind of favor?"

"The kind that stays between the two of us."

"Why the secrecy, Shaun?"

"It's a private matter. Can you do it?"

"Why don't you tell me who it is and I'll tell you?"

"There's an old mate of mine, I need to find out where he's living these days."

"You just wan an address? I can do that. Who's your friend?"

"His name is Charles Chelios. About 185 to 190 centimeters tall, white, bald, early forties, he's from Yorkshire."

"Okay." Said Jimmy as he picked up his bags, "That's kinda weird, but doable. Look, I gotta go. Give my best to everyone else."

"Will do. And good luck in London."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Dorian Gray returns.


	21. Sins of the Father

**Four Days Ago**

_Doomstadt, Latveria_

Father Mackenzie sat in the confession booth, slid the window pane and said,

_"How long has it been since your last confession?"_

"I don't speak Dutch, father. Can you speak English?"

"Yes. How long has it been since your last confession?"

"Oh, it's been ages, Dorian."

Mackenzie, or Dorian Gray as he was known decades ago froze for a second. He heard whoever was on the other side exit. He had to find out who it was.

Bolting out of the booth, Dorian was surprised to see three men standing before him, one he did not know, one he was familiar with and one he had believed t be dead for a long time.

"Hello, Father." Said Mashu uncomfortably.

"Father Gray," said the man that Dorian never met in a mild Scottish accent, "We need to chat."

At the moment, Dorian was fixated on the third man was leaning against the booth's door.

"Captain Nemo. You're alive…"

"I was worried you wouldn't recognize me, with the beard gone and all that. Mister O'Shaughnessy you already know, that's my associate John Mason."

"Call me Jack."

"What do you want?" asked Dorian nervously.

"A few minutes of your time. We need to tell you something very important."

Dorian hesitated for a few moments before walked away.

"We can talk in my office."

* * *

**1905**

_Vauxhall Cross, London_

The prisoner was unceremoniously pushed onto the chair with such force that he bounced right off and hit the granite floor, his nose breaking on impact, the bone protruded from his flesh. The less-than-merciful hands of his guards grabbed hold of him quickly, lifting him up and then slamming him back on the chair, then fastening a dozen shackles around his arms and legs. The guards let go and backed away, by that point the prisoner's wounded nose had already healed.

In that windowless interrogation room in British Intelligence's building, Campion Bond calmly watched all this as it took place. Once the prisoner was secured, Bond opened the dossier on the table between him and the prisoner, reading aloud,

"Dorian Horatio Gray, you have been found guilty by special tribunal of crimes against the crown, including treason, conspiring to abuse the powers of a public office, conspiring to sell advanced weaponry to the enemy and conspiring to endanger the welfare of the royal family. The punishment for all that is a lifetime sentence of imprisonment with hard labor."

"You got me out of my cell to tell me this?"

"Your life's purpose is about to become turning big rocks into smaller rocks. Life… that takes an especially different meaning when you're Immortal."

"You know, all those charges mean nothing." Said Gray with a cocky smirk, "The reason you want to imprison me is that you don't want the truth to get out."

"Oh, and what truth is that?"

"That the Martians in East London didn't die of influenza as the authorities reported. I was in East London when the bombing started; I saw that artillery shells fired and then saw the people start dying. What was in those shells anyway? Some kind of biological weapon, I would wager."

"That's preposterous." Said Bond with an arrogant smirk, "You're just bitter you got caught as the only living person in a city filled with corpses. I must admit, if it wasn't for that pleasant coincidence, we would have never caught you."

"C'est la vie."

"To answer your question, Mister Gray, the reason we pulled you out of your cell isn't to simply read you your verdict. The truth is there is a matter that has not been resolved, one that we wish you could illuminate."

"Why would I?"

"There is the matter of where to put you. We can place you in a work camp in Scotland, or one here in England. I would bet you aren't looking forward for life imprisonment among the Scots."

Gray stared hard and long at Bond, then rolled his eyes and said,

"What is it?"

"It's simply the matter of your reemergence; Mrs. Wilhelmina Murray-Jekyll has-"

"Mina married Jekyll? She married that little twat?!"

"Yes she did, and Doctor Jekyll died for this country as a true Hero. Something you have no chance of ever understanding. Mrs. Jekyll reported that she pinned you to a wall in James Moriarty's base in Mongolia, then revealing your portrait to you, killed you. How did you manage to undo that?"

Gray snickered long and loud.

"Please… Like I would be dim enough to tell anyone what the way to defeat me would be. I mean come on; _looking at my own portrait will kill me_? That makes no sense, how do they think I found out that it has started aging in my place?"

"Alright, so looking at your portrait cannot kill you. What happened?"

"I would expect British Intelligence to realize that during my protracted life I would have unavoidably learned a few things that normal folk rarely do, like basic magic. I never did die in Mongolia, what Mina saw was simple illusion. Yes, she pinned my to a wall. Yes, she showed me my portrait. But everything from that point on was smoke and mirrors, I faked an absurdly unconvincing death, I'm afraid I've never been much of an actor. But through her eyes she saw me turn into a crumbling skeleton and my portrait turn into my youthful image. Neither had really changed, it was just an illusion."

"Why didn't you just kill her? Why the act?"

"I prepared the illusion as a last resort, in case she ever gained the upper-hand, which she did."

"I see."

"Besides, I still hope to nail her one more time."

* * *

**Now**

"I must admit, I was expecting the second coming more than you coming today." Said Dorian as he presented Nemo with a glass of orange juice, then went t pour a second for Mason.

"Believe me; I was equally stunned when I learned what had become of you."

"I would imagine."

Dorian sat behind his desk, placed his elbows on top and put his hand together against his chin with interlocking fingers.

"What can I do for you?"

"You could start by telling us the nature of your relationship with the League." Said Nemo.

"There isn't any."

"Oh?"

"Not since the late thirties."

"Would you mind telling us what happened exactly?" asked Mason, "Don't be afraid to bore us."

"As you know, the man Mina Harker killed in Mongolia was nothing more than a doppelganger." Said Dorian, and then took a long pause, he seemed like he stopped but then continued.

"I was arrested for treason and conspiring to bring war to the United Kingdom by MI-5 in 1904, a month before the Martian invasion. I wasn't released until 1916, after the second League had gone under. British Intelligence decided to create a third incarnation of the team that had more stamina, a team that would last a very long time."

"The League of Immortals."

"Precisely. Mina was our unit' leader, like she was with the previous one. The other members were myself, Lord Orlando, Jack Sparrow and Tom Sawyer. God knows why he was there, he was a mortal, he aged normally for the time we were together. We operated efficiently until the thirties; that's when I quit."

"Why?" asked Nemo.

"Something was missing." Mused Dorian, "I no longer relished in the thrill of combat, I could no longer drink to excess, women's touch lost all its warmth…. Something was missing from me; a piece of my soul. I left to find myself, traveled to the far corners of the earth; I spent nine years in Tibet; learning at the hands of the Dali lama, I lived in the darkest regions of Australia, been to Istanbul, the Vatican, Africa and everywhere you can imagine seeking inner-peace, finally finding it in a Nigerian mission in the mid-fifties.

"For the fist time in my life I felt true love. I left my old life and my old name behind me and decided to embrace my purpose, make my life's work to bring the good lord to lives of the despaired."

"Huh. And did the League just allow you this freedom?"

"Oh, no. They offered my a job when they gained independence in the sixties, they promises me wealth and power and all that Dorian Gray would have welcomed, but when I refused they blackmailed me, and when did not relent they pulled the strings to excommunicate me. I had to start over, I became a priest again in the seventies under a new name; they got the message and realized they couldn't push me into it. I still get an offer once every few years, and I turn them on their ear every time.

"Now, I suppose that you've gained enough wisdom over both your lives to realize that I am telling you this for a reason. There are four kinds of people in the world, the League, the opposition, those who are unaware either exist, and people like me, those who ally themselves with neither; the third camp. I refuse to align myself with either party, as one actively tries to keep the world mediocre, to maintain status-quo, to keep the helpless helpless and the corrupt in power, give everyone less and less reasons to have faith everyday, while the other does nothing but scheme toward crushing the first, without doing anything to ease any suffering. Whatever you've come to ask, the answer is no."

"Well," said Mason, "That's disappointing."

"Yes, disappointing." Said Nemo, "But we were hoping to ask you a one or two more things."

"I don't know what could be that I would know that you wouldn't, but go ahead."

"Do you keep any contact with the League, or the intelligence community in general? Do you have any idea of the going-ons within the League?"

"Orlando. He or she comes to visit every now and then, Orlando still has plenty of friends who are spies and he tells e a few things. He is a member of the third camp as well, but the League does not harass him because they cannot predict what could happen if he or she ever felt cornered."

"So you know about the seven branches and all that?"

"Yes."

"How about Codename Josephine? Have you ever heard of her?"

"Yes. For the past three visits from the League everyone was her emissary. She runs one of the American branches, doesn't she?"

"Correct. Do you have any idea who she is?"

"No. Why, have we met?"

"Met? You've slept with her."

"Mister Mason, I am ashamed to admit that that does not narrow the field at all. I do not boast when I say that you're talking about literally thous-"

"Mina."

Dorian's features failed to convey his emotions, if Nemo and Mason didn't know better, they would think he seemed like he'd heard something he already knew. A lengthy silence followed, ending only when Dorian quietly said, "You're lying."

"No, we're not." Said Nemo as he took out an envelope and tossed it onto Dorian's desk. Dorian opened it and looked at recent pictures of Mina, taken only the week before by Alfred Pennyworth in Gotham.

"She's blond, now. But that's her. Your old squeeze."

Dorian emotionlessly placed the pictures back into the envelope and placed them on the edge of his desk.

"That was… Thank you for telling me, but I do not think that changes my mind."

"It should." Said Nemo as he got up, walked toward a window and looked out at the garden outside, "The third camp will cease to exist at some point, everyone will have t choose a side… There's a war coming."

For the next few minutes Mason and Nemo told Dorian about Project Phoenix in detail. He was not at all stunned; after all, he was there when the Napoleon of Crime planned to do the same thing for his personal gain.

"We'll have to take up arms. There's no other way, we'll have to take them all out."

"Again, what do you want from me?"

"Mina Jekyll is the only remaining member of the Vlad Dracula's blood line. She's very powerful, and more experienced than all the rest. If and when we go to war, she would have to be taken out early to keep her from taking control."

"Easier said than done."

"True. That's why we need you."

"You what?"

"We need you to kill the old bitch, Father." Said Mason.

"You…. You can't be serious!"

"Why not?"

"You're asking me to commit murder! That's preposterous."

"Is it really murder? She is undead, after all."

"Get out!"

Nemo turned around, and then walked toward the door, followed by Mason. But before he could touch the doorknob he stopped and turned back.

"Redemption isn't about just being a good boy, Dorian. You have to face up to the responsibilities of past sins. Part of who Mina is, who she has become, is your fault. Her sense of superiority, her indifference, her hatred… It isn't Dracula's doing, it's the world's. It was British Intelligence killing her husband; Jekyll. It was her husband leaving her because of what she became. But before all others, it was you… You had already set her on this path long before she crossed Dracula. What in the devil's name did you to her, _MacKenzie_?"

Nemo turned the knob and walked out.

"Nemo's right." Sid Mason, placing a card on the desk and picking up the envelope of Mina's pictures, "This mess is part yours, you should clean it up. When you've thought this through you contact us. Have a nice day, Father."

* * *

"Mister O'Shaughnessy," said Mason as he joined his former employee outside, "How have you been? Enjoying your current posting."

"It's alright, sir. I've grown fond of it."

"So you wouldn't welcome a different one, say.. In Japan?"

"God, no! I was lying, I hate it here."

"Have you learned your lesson about following orders?"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"Good. Come with us, Mashu. You'll be working for Captain Nemo from on."

* * *

R&R. I'm not just saying that.

**Next Chapter:** Shaun has a date with two women. Maybe, I dunno. You review and then we'll see.


	22. There is a war coming

**Now**

_Los Angeles, California_

"There is a war coming... Actually, I believe it may already be here."

John Constantine waited for more, he waited for a minute, during which he grew more and more impatient and finally got up from his seat, realizing that was the big news.

"**That's** why you made me come down all the way here?" asked Constantine as he took a pack of cigarette out of his coat pocket, lodged it between his lips, then lit it with a metallic Zippo lighter.

Constantine turned around in his spot in the back-room office of Club Midnite, snickering with the cigarette between his index and middle fingers. He took off his coat and tossed it onto the Italian sofa, loosened his neck tie and unbuttoned the top his shirt's top button.

"Midnite, you've been fucking around with zombies and efrits for too long, you've lost your grasp on current events."

Papa Midnite, the Jamaican shaman of six and a half feet stretched in his seat and lit a cuban cigar.

"I'm not referring to the war in Iraq, John. I'm talking about something else entirely."

"Aw, Jesus." Said Constantine as he took a drag from his cigarette, "The country's going to war again? Who is it this time, Iran? Syria? How about North Korea?"

"This has nothing to do with mundane politics; this is a different kind of war."

Constantine paced and smoked silently for a second.

"Alright, I'll bite. What's the score?"

"Gabriel."

"Gabriel? You're kidding."

"She said she's been having dreams about this, always too blurry. The most lucid of these vision she saw a tall blond woman, Germanic apparently. Some other psychics keep getting a vibe as well.

"Back in March, Johnny Smith bumped into a man during one of the fights; I believe it was Michael Corvinus versus George Kapalan. Anyway, Smith had a vision that this man, an Indian, was a man of great importance, as was Kaplan. He said that both were key players in the war to come; the Invisible War."

"The invisible war? Isn't that a video game or something?"

"John, is everything a joke to you?"

"No, seriously. I remember playing it a few years ago when my leg was broken, kept getting killed by a robot." said Constantine as he sat back down, "Smith is kind of a drunk these days, Midnite. At the rate he's chugging down Bourbon, his so called dead zone must be on the fritz. Anyway, whatever it is I'm sure you'll handle it."

"This has to be you, John."

"Why me? I got enough troubles as it is; I've got people I owe money, I've got angry husbands after me with baseball bats, not to mention that the Devil is waiting for me to slip. Oh, and let's no forget that I'm a fugitive. I'm wanted for murder, Midnite."

Constantine picked up the bottle of whisky on Midnite's table without permission and preceded to drink directly from it.

"I could care less what a fallen angel and an ex-celebrity psychic have been dreaming about."

"Yes, I heard about your recent troubles with the law. Did you do it, John?"

"You mean did I eviscerate that girl alive, peel off her eyelids and cut a triangle out of her scalp? I didn't kill her, she was already dead when I found her. But yes, I did mutilate her, if I hadn't then the demon in her would have tok over the body of the next poor schmuck to lay a hand on her."

Midnite bowed his head and took off his hat, then reached into the pockets of his brown velvet coat to produce a cheroot.

"Wouldn't it be a good idea to leave the country? Or even the state? I have friends in Gotham, I could set-"

"No thanks, Midnite." Said Constantine somberly as he took a drag of his cigarette, "This is my city, I like it here. Besides, they don't have much in the way of evidence from what I hear. Also, Angela's the lead detective on the case; she wouldn't find it in herself to come after me for real."

"As I recall, you did not part on good terms. Didn't she have a friend of hers have you kicked out of your building over building violations out of spite?"

"Yeah. Women.." Said Constantine as he got up, "Look, good luck with the video game war. My sister is threatening to come and visit unless I call so I'm gonna do that. Take care, Linton."

Constantine headed for the door, but just as he raised his hand to reach for the knob, he heard a button being pressed followed be a beep, and just as his fingers touched the cold brass knob, he heard the voice.

_"Mister Midnite? This is Angela Dodson… John's ex-girlfriend. We met once…… I realize you must have lots on your plate; you probably get these kinds of calls all the time. It's just I've been having these episodes, premonitions or whatever. I think there is a war coming… The Invisible War is what it's called. I know John must be hiding, maybe you're the one hiding him. That doesn't matter right now, we should talk."_

A beep followed. Constantine turned around and walked back to Midnite's desk and sat in front of him.

"When?"

"Two nights ago."

"Did you meet her?"

"Yes."

"What did she have to say?"

"What I've already told you. She mentioned an Indian man and anther man contorted out of shape."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Apparently something like Mister Fantastic."

"You mean that clown super-hero in New York? He's involved?"

"These are psychic visions, John, almost everything is an askew metaphorical reflection of what it really is."

"Any idea who is Kaplan?"

"A vampire using an alias."

"What kind of vampire?"

"LaMagran."

"LaMagran? Didn't all the LaMagran vampires die after that _Daystar_ business four years ago?"

"Apparently this one hasn't. The point is that Angela, Gabriel, Smith and others have mentioned an invisible war as well as the Indian man or the blond woman. So, does this warrant your interest?"

Constantine ran his hands through his hair, then stood up, put out his cigarette in the ashtray.

"I have a few things to do first. I gotta get some money, fast, pay off the bookies and the shylocks, try and work something out with the homicidal husbands and wait out the murder debacle. Maybe then I'll give this a gander."

"The world may be going to hell as we speak, John."

"Look, I'll do what I can. Alright?" shouted Constantine as he picked up his coat and headed for the door, "I got to take care of my own shit first, but if you're in a hurry you can always contact the Watcher's council."

Midnite sighed.

"I can't believe you're a man who has kept hell from spilling onto this world."

"Yeah, funny little world, isn't it?"

* * *

**The Following Morning**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"Your…Your hair."

Mina looked through her bathroom door to see Mandy, her adjutant and life partner standing a few feet outside in the hall, holding a stack of folders under her arm with a look of slight surprise in her eyes.

"Yes." Said Mina as she looked back at the mirror, at her still wet hair, now back to its natural crimson after several years of having bleached locks.

"I've changed it. I've been a blond for too long…. Do you like it?"

"Ummm…. I liked it when you were a blond, but yeah, Jo, It's great."

"Splendid." Said Mina as she walked out of the bathroom, fastening her bathrobe around her tall slender body, "Tell Mister Belvedere to bring us breakfast on the balcony, and tea, Earl Grey. Wait for me there as I get dressed."

_**-------------------------------**_

Mandy felt somewhat at odds as she sat on the balcony. Josephine was sat in front of her, having gotten dressed in a black fitting top, a brown leather skirt and high heeled boots. She was looking across the city skyline at the Novick Building as it was overshadowed by Wayne Tower. And for some reason unknown to Mandy, she seemed oddly content, a shadow of a playful smile dancing on the corner of her lips.

Though Mandy felt that it wasn't just being content, Josephine looked as vibrant and lively as she had in a long time, particularly after her constant bouts of depression and mood swings ever since the League's top nine convened over two and a half months ago.

"Gump reports that the opposition has formed an elite unit, a black ops division." Said Mandy, "It's all top-level secret. But he thinks that Mona Sax and Judas Priest are members of the team. These are the same two who have, er…"

"The same two who have deduced my identity and discovered the location of Gideon MacGuffin." Said Mina calmly as she sipped her tea, "An impressive pair. Too bad they're not working for us."

"Six more months without Nemo contacting them and maybe they would have. They were on our red list." Said Mandy.

"Remind of their background again."

"Sax used to work as a tech support in a middle-sized firm in Manhattan, her sister was married to an organized crime boss and she got mixed up in the Cosa Nostra as well, eventually she was recruited by your old associate Nicole Horne. She trained her and employed her up until 2001. Senator Alfred Woden hired her after that, while in his employ she did a under-the-table jobs for the government. She was arrested in 2004.

"Priest has been in the country since 1912. Before 1943 there is no record of him, though there are reports he worked for Tony Camonte and was a bootlegger in Chicago during prohibition. In '43 he was one of two vampires hired by the government and continued to work for them in various capacities; spy, assassin and soldier until 1968. He was the whistle-blower behind the My Lai massacre reaching the press, before he deserted he killed a number of his superiors and mutilated one intelligence agent. Are you ready for the good part?

"What is it?"

"Felix Leiter claims that his leg was blown off in an explosion in South America, doesn't he? Well, it's been covered up good, but I found out that it was chopped off by none other than Priest himself."

"Surely you're joking?"

"Not at all. Leiter was with Army intelligence during Vietnam, one of his missions was to take out Priest when his superiors thought they couldn't risk him getting out of control. I wonder why he had it hushed up?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Mina, "Imagine the New York Director's embarrassment if it became common knowledge that his disability was inflicted on him by a target of his."

"Yes, I suppose."

"What else? I invited the Tokyo Director to visit when he's in the states next month, has he responded?"

"Yeah. Erm, He said he'd already committed to meet Leiter and that he'll try to pencil you in."

"Did he?"

"There's no way he's going to snub you, I'm sure he'll come."

"Forget about him for the moment." Said Mina, "What about Regan?"

"Senator McNeil is in New York on the campaign trail, she's meeting with Leiter."

"What for?" asked Mina in surprise.

"Well, she is running for President. You may be the one who found and groomed her, but she answers to all of the League in the end."

"…What did you say?"

Mina's voice was calm as ever, yet conveyed enough rage to make even a hardened woman like Mandy tremble. Before Mandy could say anything, Mina said,

"I want you to look into it. I have a bad feeling about this."

"Whatever you say, Josephine."

* * *

Before anyone asks, Constantine isn't going to be playing a big part, though it will be important enough. He probably won't appear till a lot later, perhaps not even until season 3.

Oh, yes. There will be a season 3. The amount of noir and spy madness I have planned is too much to contain in just one story. I can barely resist the urge to tell you everything that is going to happen. But I will give you a few hints; Priest dons the cowl of the Batman, Mona and Lucy move to Old Town in Sin City and the minutemen beat the pulp out of the fantastic four.

**R&R.**

**Next Chapter:** Not sure yet, perhaps it will be on Jimmy and a trip he takes to a town called Sanford in the country side or maybe about Priest and Sayid teaching Shaun the principles of interrogation. You know what? You can decide!

**a- American Idiot?** Starring Jimmy Saint, Jack Mason and Mernae Waths.

**b- Bad Cop?** Starring Shaun Collier, Sayid Jarrah and Judas Priest.

Of course, I will write both. You just have to decide what you want to come first.


	23. American Idiot

**One Week Ago**

_Gloucestershire, England_

Jimmy sat in the train carriage looking out the window, Mernae was directly opposite to him, staring out the window as well.

"Are we there, yet?"

"No."

"Alright. What is this Sandford place, and why did Mason choose it to serve as our headquarters?"

"It's won village of the year a few times, low crime rate. Any more questions?"

"Yeah, just how the hell is this the first time that I've known you're working with us?"

"Look, I've only learned this yesterday." said Mernae.

"What, you didn't know I was working with the opposition before today?"

"Right."

"Yeah, right." said Jimmy, "You're Jack Mason's sidekick and he didn't tell you who's working with him."

"I'm not his 'sidekick', and he never tells me anything about what goes on with the New York Cell. All we have to discuss is our work in London."

"And what is that, exactly?"

"None of your business!" yelled Mernae.

"AHA! But we're supposed to be working together now, you have to spill the beans!"

Mernae sighed.

"Alright, I do too many things to enumerate, but my most important job is to mind a mole we have in the League's main Headquarters in Regent's Park."

"What? Are you talking about Harmony Kendall?"

"You know Harmony?"

"She used to work in the New York Branch. We, the McManus brother and I used to handle her. By handle I don't mean anything dirty, though she and Murphy did get drunk one night and-"

"Yeah, I got it."

A few moments of strained silence passed before Jimmy asked,

"Are we there yet?"

* * *

**Now**

_The Yellow Submarine_

"Hatori Hanzo; the master swordsman and former secret service agent…. Sam Noir; a ronin private investigator … And Mashu O'Shaughnessy; highly trained assassin."

_"An opposition cell in operation ahead of the branch; not bad, Captain."_ Said Al-Sheikh's image on the computer screen, _"Not to mention it is an impressive roster." _

"Yes, I'm sure they will be most adequate." Said Nemo, "Now, what has become of the minutemen?"

_"They're investigating the drug shipment as we speak; based upon the intelligence gathered by the Gotham cell the shipment arrived at Baltimore sometime this week. Once we've found out exactly where is it heading the Black Pearl can intercept it and destroy the shipment."_

"And when do you plan on dispatching them to accomplish what we've been discussing?"

_"As soon as they are done, I'll know if they're up to it. Their past assignment, though legitimate and necessary were at the core a test. The bank job was meant to test their capacity for working in a high-risk confrontational situation, the Chestnut café meeting was meant to test O'Brien's ability at infiltration. This assignment will determine their competence as investigators."_

* * *

**One Week Ago**

_Sandford, Gloucestershire_

Jimmy jumped back as the police car came shooting down the street, its tires screeching as it did a ninety degree turn at high velocity before disappearing behind the corner leaving only the fading wail of its sirens as it sped away.

"What the hell was that?!"

"The police." Said Mernae matter of factly.

"Not shit. I know it's the cops, but just what could they be after so fast."

"I dunno. Could be the N.W.A., two of them escaped from prison last month. Maybe somebody stole the goose again."

"Stole the what? Never mind… I can tell this is going to be weird all over."

"Have you eaten?" asked Mernae as she crossed the street.

"No, not since last night."

"Well come on then."

"Where to?"

"Pub."

"Pub? It's three in the afternoon."

"Well, this is England."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Said Jimmy as he followed Mernae to the pub up the street.

"Huh… There was a time when you said that the last thing you wanted to be was another American idiot."

"Look, when I signed up for this I didn't think I would be fighting for freedom from manipulation by the intelligence community in the middle of the countryside."

"I thought you choose to come here."

"It was either come here or serve as a crewman on the Black Pearl. I would have preferred to be back in New York, or backing the minutemen."

"Well, there's more to this cause than beating the snot out of agents and shake-downs. We'll be dealing with intelligence gathering and subterfuge."

"Look at you, little miss I-spy. Since when did you become Emma Peel."

"I've been doing this ever since…. Ever since…"

"Ever since you dumped me? Is that what you're trying to say?"

"Don't make this about us, Jesus."

"Don't call me Jesus." Said Jimmy as he followed Mernae into the pub, "My name is Jimmy, now."

The pub wasn't flowing with patrons, but it was in business with two or three groups scattered between the table as well as three at the bar.

"Fine, Jimmy." Said Mernae as she sat at the nearest table, calling to the bartender, saying, "Two pints of bitter, sharpish!"

"Now can I ask you question?" asked Jimmy.

"Exactly when did you start working for Mason?"

Mernae didn't answer right away, Jimmy could see in her eyes that she was looking for a way to dodge where the conversation was heading.

"I said…"

"I'll make this easier. Exactly when did Mason recruit you?"

"Wh...Why are you asking me?"

"Was it right after you left… or was it before? Answer me, M., you owe me that much."

"I don't owe you a thing, Jimmy. You want to know the truth? It was when we were together. I met Mason for the first time after you and I had a row at that Green Day concert. He filled me in on everything, said he could train me, give me a cause worth fighting for. At first I though he might be a dirty old pervert, but I knew I had to follow him."

"And you dumped me to be Mason's sidekick." Said Jimmy bitterly as the bartender arrived with two pints of beer.

"That's the thing, Jimmy. You and I, we just weren't working… I wanted to make a difference, you just wanted to get drunk, high and laid and yell 'Fuck the world'. You were starting to get to me and I wanted to quit, but I loved you and I couldn't do it. Mason gave me the spur that I needed."

Jimmy looked at her with no expression as he raised the pint to his lips and silently drank.

"This beer is terrible."

"Get used to it. I don't care. How Mason decided to recruit a drug-addict deadbeat like you is beyond me."

"I was working in a post office."

"Jimmy, what-"

"I wasn't Jimmy then, either."

"…You what?"

"When Mason recruited me. I was… Hell, you don't care."

"Jimmy," said Mernae, hesitantly placing her hand over Jimmy's and pressing it gently, "What happened?"

"No, M., you want to think that everything's been easy on me? Go ahead."

"Jimmy, what happened?"

Jimmy sighed.

"When I was Jimmy for the first time, after you left I got really desperate, got into hard drugs when the Novocain couldn't hack it anymore. After a while I decided to end the whole sham, I went and bought a gun, headed out to the bay and pressed the barrel to the back of my mouth."

"And what did you do?"

"It was Jimmy that closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, but it was Jesus that heard the click and opened his eyes. The gun was broken, it would only hurt someone if you there it at them, but it did the trick; Jimmy was gone. I moved back to Jingletown and found a job, a room at the motel and a bunch of video games to play with as my life expired one minute at a time.

"But some things you can't kill. I became Jimmy again, gradually. I didn't bother to quit my job and took a sledgehammer to the TV before moving to L.A. and joining an anarchist movement, I learned a thing or two before I quit and went solo. I crossed Mason's path eventually and he introduced me to the Boondock Saints, he told me we had a job to do in New York. The rest is history.

"Anything else?"

"Sergeant Butterman."

"If you say so."

"No, behind you."

Jimmy turned around to see a heavyset man in a police uniform coming through the door and heaving toward them.

"Miss Patrick, how are you?" said Butterman with a jovial smile as he took off his hat.

"Danny, hi! I'm fine. What was the business outside?"

"Oh, Sergeant Fisher is bringing a change of clothes to Office Thatcher up by the farm, apparently she's stranded there sans garment. Again. Who's your friend?"

"Oh, this is James Saint. He'll be staying with us."

"Hello." Said Jimmy as he shook Butterman's hand.

"Danny Butterman, it's a pleasure."

"Danny also helps my dad and I occasionally." Said Mernae.

"Your dad?"

Mernae kicked Jimmy lightly under the table.

"Oh, your dad, right."

"Yeah," said Danny, "but keep it to yourself, I'm not really supposed to be doing this kind of thing. But if you need to lookup anyone, give us a jingle."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."

Butterman walked away and headed to the back.

"Miss Patrick? Dad?"

"Mason and I are masquerading as a retired lit professor and his daughter who lives in London. John and Yvonne Patrick." Said Mernae, "Though some of the old crones are spreading gossip that we're, um, lovers."

"What the hell am I supposed to be, your pool boy?"

"We'll figure that out later." Said Mernae as she stood up, "Time to go see the boss."

* * *

"Hello?" said Mason as he pressed the speaker button on the telephone.

"_Mister Mason?"_

"Who is this?"

"_This is Father Mackenzie, is this Jack Mason."_

"Ah. Mister Gray, I've been expecting your call for some time. Have you thoroughly considered our offer?"

"_Yes, I have… I accept."_

"Excellent." Said Mason, picking up a cup of tea off his desk.

"_What do I have to do?"_

"Just sit tight, report anything that happens out of the ordinary. We'll contact you when the time comes. Good day."

"_Goodbye."_

Mason hung up. He then heard the squeak of the outer screen door of his cottage's kitchen, he stood up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to see Jimmy and Mernae come in.

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Shaun's birthday. He celbrates by going out with two women, but finds himself back ni school, this time being educated by Prof. Jarrah.


	24. Bad Cop

**Eighteen Days Ago**

_The Volcano_

"My name is Sayid Hassan Jarrah. I used to… I am a torturer. I have tortured many men and women, and some who were too young to be called either, I broke bones, poured scalding oil onto skin, electrocuted live flesh… I did all those horrible things because I was a loyal soldier, and there was a time that I did those thing so that I could survive, and so that my friends could survive. I am not proud of it, I wish I had not done it, or I wish it was someone else who did those things, whatever was the cause…. The things that I've done pale in comparison to what happens in League-run prisons around the world, to people like Aladdin Sane, and to people who did nothing to deserve it… What I have done, what happens in those prisons is something that should not be done by one person to another."

* * *

**Now**

_Baltimore, Maryland_

Shaun couldn't help but crack a smile as he remembered where he was, who he was and what he was wearing. The waiter arrived with a finely aged bottle of Scotch in an ice bucket and preceded to open it and pour it into the three glasses.

"You look very handsome in that suit, Mister Collier."

The where was one of the city's finest Italian restaurants, where one had to book a week in advance to get a table, a restaurant where the minimum cost of a given meal was in three figures. What Shaun wore was a finely tailored dark blue suit with silver cufflinks and a silk neck-tie.

Lucy sat to Shaun's left, wearing a flowing blue dress that brought out the color of her eyes, while Mona sat at Shaun's right, wearing a black evening gown. Both Shaun's companions were certainly head-turners, and as Priest put it, 'They clean up very nice'. If Shaun cared to look, he'd notice looks of envy and awe from men at nearby tables.

"That he does." said Mona flirtatiously, taking a sip of her Scotch, "You better watch out tonight, Birthday boy, you should make sure to lock your door. I might not be able to control myself."

Shaun laughed and took a sip of his own.

"Oh, you two. If the Red October can't contain my ego on the trip back to Morocco, you have no one to blame but yourselves. Shall we order?"

"Sure."

"Thanks, girls. This night has been amazing."

"Well, it's your birthday and you deserve it."

The three opened their menus and started reading.

"Christ!" gasped Shaun, "Look at all these prices, we can't possible eat here!"

"It's alright, Shaun. Trust me."

"God, I bet Naif is going to blow a gasket when he find out about this… Bloody hell, between the suit, the dinner and the limo we must be in the red."

"Don't worry about it. It's all for free."

"Free? How is that?"

"Well, when Priest and I worked in Gotham, he did a favor for a man called Sal Maroni. Since then, Maroni has gained some turf here in Baltimore. The suit, the dinner and everything is a gift."

"So this is Priest's doing?"

"I guess so."

"Wow. Shame, though." Said Shaun, "I wish he was here, Sayid and O'Brien too. Not that the current company is anything to moan about, of course."

"Lucy and I didn't want anyone around for when we seduce you."

"Oh, Mona, stop it!"

"Besides, I think the boys had other plans."

* * *

Priest lifted the window pane open, letting the warm summer breeze in. He looked out the window to the dark street bellow, surprisingly vacant at this time.

Priest took a breath he did not need, savoring in the multitude of aromas, the stench of a sexual encounter that had taken place earlier in the night in the ally to the north, the smell of wet pavement, exhaust fumes and fresh baked bread from the bakery across the street.

"Enjoy it while you can, boy-o."

"Huh? Did you say something to me, big guy?"

Priest turned around to look at O'Brien who lay down on the couch watching TV.

"No, I wasn't, Eel." Said Priest as he retreated back into the apartment. The TV was on, currently being shown was a new report about the support President Charles Logan was getting in Georgetown, hometown of Senator Regan McNeil, Logan's opponent in the upcoming elections. Priest turned off the television, picked up a bottle of Bailey's Irish Cream from the coffee table then walked back to the window and sat on the floor by it just as Sayid came in through the front door.

"Prisoner in place?" asked O'Brien as he sat up to make room on the couch for Sayid.

"He's not going anywhere." Said Sayid as he sat on the couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table.

"O'Brien, did you drink my whisky?" asked Priest.

"What are you talking about?"

"This bottle is empty."

"The bottle's mine, Priest. I bought it, you just opened it and drank from it… First thing this morning."

"… Alright. Bygones."

"So what is this drug we're after?" Asked O'Brien.

"Substance C is a second generation derivative of the designer drug called Valkyr from about ten years back. Valkyr was produced by a company founded in part by the Gotham branch of the League. Substance C is manufactured in Gotham, packed in blocks stamped with a Phoenix."

"Who's making it in Gotham?"

"That would be the Gotham cell's job." Said Sayid.

"I bet that Batman guy could find them. Hey, he should be working for us!"

"That's an excellent idea, be sure you tell Al-Sheikh to pass it along to Nemo."

"So why are the League making and dealing drugs, anyway?"

"Same reason everybody does; money." Explained Priest as he stood up and headed to the kitchen, "Project Phoenix would need to be funded out the ass."

"Yeah, but drugs? That's fucked up."

"Not by spy standards." Said Priest as he looked through the fridge for something to drink, "Back in the fifties, the C.I.A. used to fly heroin out of Burma to fund the dirty war against China. By the sixties the Agency was doing the same in Laos, Cambodia and Vietnam among others."

"Then there is Afghanistan." Said Sayid, "Your old employers supplied weaponry to the Taliban in exchange for raw opium."

"Exactly."

"Jesus…"

"Yeah, that's how I got into the drug business." Said Priest, "Government training preps you for it."

There was then the sound of chatter, laughter and the clack of heels on uncarpeted floors from outside the apartment.

"They're back." Said Sayid as he stood up.

The door to the apartment opened, revealing Mona, Lucy and Shaun. Lucy was laughing hysterically; she was holding her shoes in one hand and was being carried in Shaun's arms. Mona followed both, uncontrollably giggling and carrying a few plastic bags. It was very obvious that all three were in varying states of intoxication, Lucy being extremely drunk.

"Shauny boy, that is one suit!" said Priest as he greeted the trio, "Mona, stop giggling, you're creeping me out."

"Hey, Priest." Said Mona, trying to control her giggling and handing Sayid the plastic bags, "We brought you leftovers."

"That's very thoughtful of you." Said Sayid with a smile, "How much did Lucy have to drink?"

"Oh, lots. Tomorrow morning she'll have a hangover so bad that she won't be able to read a one year old."

"Alright. Shaun, place Lucy on the sofa."

"Why?" asked Shaun as he did as Sayid asked.

"Mona can help her out of her clothes and get her in to bed."

"Aw, hell." Said O'Brien, "I'll do that."

Sayid shot O'Brien a lot. The thief changed his mind, backing away and saying,

"Or not, you know, it's all cool."

"Mona…"

"Yeah, I'll help her out." Said Mona as she placed a still laughing Lucy's arm over her shoulder and helped her up, "You go do your thing."

"Thank you," said Sayid, "Shaun, you better get rid of your new suit before you join us."

"Shaun!" said Lucy as she was being carried away by Mona, "Nimm mich, Mann Fleisch!"

"Good night, Lucy." Said Shaun with a chuckle, "What exactly are we doing?"

"All in good time. We'll wait for you in the corridor outside, you have three minutes."

_**----------------------**_

Priest, Sayid and Shaun got out of the elevator as they reached the building's subbasement.

"We'll have to use our codenames. Michael, Ali and Frank. Michael, I'm aware that you were training to fight and handle firearms back at the volcano for two months." Said Sayid, "Eel had been teaching you some things like pick-pocketing and lock-picking recently, hasn't he?"

"Yeah, well, he's just trying to help me expand my horizons. He didn't mean anything by it."

"You misunderstand." Said Sayid as they walked toward a door at the far side, "I think it's good that you're trying to learn as much as possible. As a matter of fact I was hoping I could teach you a thing or two myself."

"That's great." Said Shaun as the three stood outside the door and Sayid unlocked it, "Like what?"

The door opened, revealing a man tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth.

"Take a wild guess."

Shaun was stunned. The gutful of whisky in him had lost its loosening effect on him. The man in the chair was of his thirties, dressed in street clothes and had a tattoo on his chest and neck that peeked above the collar of his shirt. He did not appear to be harmed, just agitated.

"Wh…Who's that?! What the hell's going on?"

"This is why we came to Baltimore," said Priest, "To find out what this little bastard knows."

"What you man the drugs? I thought we missed it, I thought it already left the city!"

"Yeah, we wanted it to leave the city, it doesn't matter."

"What matters is where it's going." Said Sayid as he watched Priest remove the gag from the man's mouth.

"So tell us where it's headed, Joe, and we can all go home." Said Priest.

"Who the fuck are you people?" Joe angrily asked.

"Long story, but we're not cops or federal agents. Your Miranda rights is something we're not concerned with.".

"What is that supposed to scare me?" scoffed Joe, "You don't even know what you're dealing with."

"Yes, we do."

"Huh, guess that makes you a bunch of sorry idiots."

Priest punched Joe hard in the jaw, whipping his head from one side to the other.

"That's mister Sorry Idiot to you, shitbag." Said Priest, "I'm going to die someday, and I don't intend to waste a perfectly good evening on the likes of you."

"Go blow a dead-horse." Said Joe, spitting out blood.

"You BASTARD!"

Priest punched Joe in the jaw again, this time knocking his chair off its legs. Before it could even settle, Priest reached down and picked him up, setting the chair upright again.

"Where…" Priest barked as he punched Joe again, "The Fuck…. Is the shipment…Going?"

"Frank!" said Sayid, grabbing hold of Priest by the shoulders.

"Tell me, you bastard!"

Shaun joined Sayid as he pulled Priest away from Joe, though it wasn't easy.

"Good god, man! What's wrong with you?"

"It's alright…" said Priest, "I'm calm…I'm calm… I just got a little carried away."

"Carried away? You could've killed him!"

"Oh, this is cute."

The three minutemen looked at Joe, whose eye had swollen up and had a cut on his forehead. Yet he had a smug grin.

"Did you say something, sweetie?"

"Good cop, Bag cop, right? You're the bad cop, and your little brown buddy is the good cop. Hehehheh… Just like being in a cop movie. You guys are pathetic."

"Jig's up, Ali." Mumbled Priest, "We'll just have to beat it out of him."

"That's time we don't have." Said Sayid, "Mike, go get the blow-torch."

"What?" asked Shaun.

"What? Blow-torch, we have a blow-torch?"

"…Pathetic."

"There's one on the shelf by the elevator." Said Sayid, "Get it."

"What the fuck for?" asked Priest.

"What do you think?"

"You're going to burn him alive?"

"I'm not going to kill him. Just a few superficial burns will get him talking. I'l start at his lower back, then move to more painful and obvious areas. Mike, get going."

Shaun hesitated as to what to do.

"Priest, help me string him up."

"Wait, just wait, Ali. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"You're… You're bluffing." Joe mumbled.

"SHUT UP!" shouted Priest, "Ali, think about what you're talking."

"I have. What I have in mind will keep him awake and will be more painful than your fists. He'll talk."

"Alright, you don't want to wait while I beat it out of him; that's fine. But come on, there's gotta be something we can do beside burn the fucker."

"Like what?"

"How about a knee-capping?" Priest asked, "One shot, right in the knee-cap. It'll hurt more than anything this bastard's ever likely to feel. It's more humane, is what I'm saying."

"Actually, my method will leave him with the ability to walk."

"What, is this a contest? Mike, do you have your gun on you?"

"No! Guys, are you all out of your minds? You want to burn this bloke, cripple him?"

"It's called the Devil's work for a fucking reason, Mike." Said Priest, "Now go get your gun."

"Getting the blow-torch will take less time than getting the gun." Said Sayid, "We'll go with my plan."

"I..I.. I… I don't buy it!" said Joe in his seat, unsurely.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" cursed Priest, "Look, there is a hose over there and a tap. We'll pull his shirt over his head, try waterboarding."

"Waterboarding, huh?"

"Waterbarding?" asked Joe, "The hell is that?"

"Don't worry," said Priest sarcastically, "We're bluffing."

"Alright." Said Sayid, "We'll give it a few minutes, and then switch to my method."

"That's all I wanted to hear." Said Priest, "Mike, go get the blow torch."

"You nutters, you can't be serious!"

"Mike, if this offends you sensibilities, then you can wait outside until we call you."

"Sayid…"

"Mike!"

Shaun hung his head, before walking away, heading out the door. He could hear the sound of struggle as Joe resisted his horrific fate, the sound of the tap as it was turned. He picked the blow-torch off the shelf and then headed back, dragging his feat in shame.

Shaun opened the door, Joe was in his seat, flanked by Sayid and Priest who were already removing the man's t-shirt from his head while the hose rested on the ground, spitting water out onto the floor. Joe inhaled in relief.

"Put that thing down, Mike." Said Priest, "It's over."

"What?"

"Madrid." Said Sayid, "That's where the drugs are heading."

"He talked? Already?"

Priest punched Joe one last time, knocking him out cold.

"Yep." Said Priest as he was untying Joe, "We didn't even have to do any of the actual torture. He just fell for the oldest of interrogation techniques. Bad cop…"

"Worse cop." Said Sayid, "Where are you taking him?"

"I'm going to dump him somewhere like a church." Said Priest as he carrid Joe out on his shoulders, "Happy birthday, Shaun."

_**----------------------**_

"What was the meaning of all that?" asked Shaun, smoking a cigarette, somewhat still upset.

"An interrogation, something that our unit will be doing many times as long as we operate." Said Sayid as he smoked a cigarettes of his own. The two stood under a street light outside their building.

"Jesus Christ…"

"Shaun, what did you expect us to be doing? Really?"

"Not this! What the hell makes you think I want to learn any of this?"

Sayid rolled his eyes.

"Tell me, Sayid; were you really going to torture him?"

"Shaun, I was counting on him panicking; losing all his bravado and telling us what we wanted to know." Said Sayid, "Interrogation relies on mind games, playing on your adversary's fears and emotions. I knew he was afraid of getting burned, and would believe that he was going to be burned as soon as we began the waterboarding. If we hadn't instilled that fear in him, the waterboarding would have had less of a chance to succeed."

"That doesn't answer my question, were you going to do what you were talking about?"

"I hoped I wouldn't. But I was prepared to do so. If he hadn't lost his nerve, I would have went ahead with it, and I might have even burned him. And believe me when I say that Priest would have had no problem with shooting him in the knees."

"Oh, Christ…"

"I'm sorry you saw what we did, but you had to. There might come a time when you would find yourself in that situation. And when you do, you must have what it takes to make the best of it.

"Shaun, Al-Sheikh meant everything he said three weeks ago, we're going against an enemy more powerful than us and to stand toe to toe, we must match their ruthlessness. This is a war we're fighting, make no mistake about it."

"Yeah, alright… I understand. I just didn't expect it."

"I hope this doesn't ruin anything, Shaun. I really do."

Sayid walked up the steps to the front door.

"Are you coming?"

"I don't think so. I guess I'll wait for Priest."

"That reminds me, in the basement you called me by my real name. Be sure that never happens again."

"Right. Sorry."

"Goodnight, Shaun."

"Take care, Sayid."

As soon as Sayid was back inside, Shaun grunted loudly, grabbing hold of his head with both hands.

"What the hell have I got myself into?"

A moment later, Shaun's phone beeped. He took it out of his pocket and looked at the screen. He had an incoming text message from an overseas number. Shaun pressed the _read_ button and the message was displayed.

**Jimmy here. CK Chelios lives at 1287 Statham st . Islington.**

Shaun read the message over and over, his heart pounding hard, he held his breath for the better part of a minutes, his vision growing blurry.

Shaun mumbld, "Liz."

* * *

Sorry about the delay, I just wasn't sure what to do with the interrogation scene. I hope you liked it.

**R&R.**

**Next Chapter:** I feel like writing a story set in the past. One idea is a story about Bond early in his career, where he meets Priest who was working for the CIA at the time, the time being the early 60s. Anyway, this time you can suggest what you would like me to writ about, as long as it is set before 1970.


	25. The Candidate

**Now. July 1****st****, 2008**

"This is as you known Senator Regan Teresa McNeil." Said Al-Sheikh, "Born in Georgetown, Washington in 1961, to Howard MacNeil, one time editor of the New York times and Christine MacNeil, the academy award nominated film star of pictures such as _Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore_."

Al-Sheikh stood in Priest's hotel room, addressing the gathered Minutemen as he stood by the television and exhaled his cigarette smoke. The screen displayed a muted interview with the aforementioned Senator, who was a woman of her mid to late forties, brown-haired and green-eyed and with a charming smile.

"At the age of eleven her parents divorced, by sixteen her mother had died. She moved to New York with her legal guardian, a friend of her mother's and attended school there, graduating at the top of her class and enrolling at Wellesley college, majoring in political science. She then went to Yale Law School where she graduated second in her class.

"In 1988 she became involved with and eventually married Lieutenant Colonel John McNeil, no relation of course, the last name is spelled different. A few years into their marriage, Colonel McNeil was deployed to Iraq during operation Dessert Storm where he died in combat. Mrs. McNeil mourns his death to this very day, and has taken up a celibate lifestyle, all but declaring a vow to remain faithful to her late husband."

"Sounds like a load, if you ask me." Said Priest as he stretched his legs and leaned back in his favorite chair.

"Following a successful and varied career as a law professor, district attorney and social and civil rights activist, she was elected to New York State Senate in 2001 in which she continues to serve, during her tenure she has championed causes such as stem-cell research and alternative lifestyle rights and has enjoyed unprecedented popularity and approval by the general public.

"In May, she defeated Wayne Palmer to become the Democratic Candidate in the upcoming elections, running up against incumbent President Charles Logan."

Al-Sheikh put his cigarette out on an ashtray and then turned off the TV.

"Senator McNeil enjoys reading Arabic poetry, playing the violin and cycling. She has two cats and the complete discography of The Rolling Stones in vinyl records, each signed by at least one of the band. She speaks fluent Arabic, German and Gaelic. Though her parents were not particularly religious, she is a devout Irish-catholic. She frequents a small, family owned restaurant whenever she is in Boston and has participated in and finished the New York marathon twice.

"She is working for the League, has been handpicked by Josephine since the nineties to work for them, groomed since years ago to do the thing she's doing right now. The plans you stole from the First Bank of Metropolis indicate that a crucial step in Project Phoenix is her election into the white House."

"I get it," said O'Brien, "We're going to kill her. Right?"

"No." said Al-Sheikh resoundingly.

"Oh, I meant assassinate her."

"This is not a matter of semantics. We're going to stop her, sabotage her campaign."

Priest leaned forward in his seat, and raised his hand, requesting permission to talk.

"Yes, Priest?"

"I say we kill her." Said Priest, "Nothing sabotages a campaign like a dead candidate. Am I right, guys?"

"Out of the question." Said Al-Sheikh.

"Why? It's more cost-effective, less time-consuming and more fun."

"I don't know," said Lucy, "A political assassination? That's a thing the League would do."

"Yes! Because it's more cost-effective and less time-consuming! These people have made it so far, accomplishing so much using this kind of thinking."

"I think Lucy is talking about this from a moral standpoint." Said Mona.

"Which is why Lucy is likely to get herself killed." Said Priest grimly as got up.

"Priest, you're out of line." Said Al-Sheikh sternly, "The reason we're not going to go about this the easy way is because we cannot control the ramifications of an assassination, it might expedite Project Phoenix rather than halt it. You're going to investigate Senator McNeil, find some sort of leverage, and prevent her from ever making it to the White House."

"What makes you think we can do that?" asked Shaun.

"Because she has something to hide."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because she's a politician." Said Priest, "And the League would never have recruited her if she was as clean as a whistle."

"Okay. But if there is some leverage as you say, then the League are probably keeping it to themselves."

"Exactly." Said Priest, "If we do it this way then its going to be tricky, expensive and very dangerous…. Forget what I said, let's do it."

"Wait a minute," said Sayid, "Isn't President Logan already working for the League?"

"Yes."

"Then why would they need someone of their own in the White House?"

"Because when it comes to Phoenix, President Logan might be significantly less likely to cooperate. So, is it settles, then? Good." Said Al-Sheikh.

"You will tomorrow before dawn on the Black Yellow Submarine, you will have a small pit-stop in England before you arrive at the States. Pack all your belongings, you will not be returning to Casablanca after this."

* * *

**Two Days Later**

_Crawley, West Sussex,England_

Arriving with Nemo at Crawley, the Mnutemen were supplied with varied, advanced equiptment from an indipendant contractor named Boothroyd, reported to have once acted as some sort of senior Engineer for British Intelligence. The minutemen then decided to lodge at a small hotel in town before heading toLondon.

"Come in, Lucy." said Priest after he heard the knock on his door. At the moment he sat on the edge of his bed, taking off his shoes.

Lucy entered, wearing a robe and shutting the door behind her.

"How did you know it was me?"

"I'm a vampire, remember? I could tell by the smell."

"I smell?"

"Everybody smells. You smell like parchment."

"Are you having a joke?"

"I swear. Parchment. Sayid smells like soup. O'Brien smells like brass."

"And what does Mona smell like?"

"Mona? She smells like the air just after it has stopped raining. Now, I doubt you're here to talk about what other people smell like. What is it?"

Lucy sighed.

"I was wondering if we could talk for a little while."

"Why?"

"I can't sleep."

"Welcome to my world."

"You still can't sleep? That must be awful, of what I read such prolonged insomnia has hazardous psychological effects."

"Yeah, I've managed to get by, though. Every night I wrap a black scar around my eyes and lay in a filled bathtub; that cuts off all light and most of the sound. I meditate when I'm like that for a few hours and it helps a bit."

"There are drugs you can take."

"Most drugs don't work on me, some tranquilizers do, but I don't need that kind of sleep. What about you, why can't you sleep?"

"We're on our way to sabotage a conspiracy to get someone into the most powerful public office in the world. I'm a little on edge."

"Point."

Lucy sat down on a chair by the window.

"What do you see, Lucy?" asked Priest, "Is this thing going to work? Or can't you sleep because you have seen that it won't."

"It doesn't work like that." Said Lucy, "I can't see that future. It's just that sometimes the futures reveals itself to me, and this time it is not. Can we not talk about work?"

"Sure. Listen… I'm sorry about that time I said you were going to be the first to die."

"It's alright."

"Good. What do you want to talk about?"

Lucy ran a hand through her long blond hair and said,

"Are you married?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"It's nothing. Sometimes I hear whispers of other people's thoughts without trying, today I heard you thinking about a woman named Erika."

"You were reading me?"

"No, it happened accidentally."

"Well, yes. I am married. I left my wife over two-hundred years ago but we were never divorced. Assuming she's still alive, we're still married. Now, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Do you realize that Shaun is largely in this unit because he wants to avenge his wife's death? And that he's so crazy about her that he can't move on."

"Yes." Said Lucy uncomfortably.

"Good, you should keep that in mind."

"What are you talking about?"

Priest sighed.

"I now you have feelings for Shaun, Lucy."

"No, I don't."

"Lucyyyyy." Said Priest with a smirk, "Come on. I'm not psychic, but I've lived for three-hundred and twenty-nine years, during which I've gained some wisdom. I can see how you look at him, and on my good days I can tell that your heart quickens whenever your hands accidentally touch."

"Yeah, well, I know how you feel about Mona."

Priest chuckled.

"Nice try."

"Damn." Cursed Lucy, "Are you going to tell him?"

"No." said Priest, "There's no point in it. Listen, I know you must think I'm an asshole right now, but I just don't want you to get hurt. Shaun has one thing on his mind, and its not moving on and finding someone else."

"I know." Said Lucy as she buried her face in hr hands.

"Hell, he's gone to London to visit Liz."

"He what?"

"He went to London to pay Liz's grave a visit. Liz was his wife, you see."

"He went alone?" asked Lucy, "Is it safe?"

"Shaun knows London better than anyone else. Besides, Mona gave him a gun to protect himself."

"Why didn't anyone go with him?"

"He can take care of himself, and taking anyone with him would just slow him down."

"Why didn't go with him? You wouldn't slow him down."

"Yeah, but I'm the reason Liz is in the ground." Said Priest, "It'd be awkward, wouldn't you think? Look, Shaun will be fine. Don't worry about him."

Lucy got up.

"I'm going to have a few valiums."

"That's the spirit. Goodnight."

Lucy opened the door, but lingered in the threshold for a second before turning around and saying,

"Are you sure you're never going to tell him?"

"Probably. But I'm afraid I'm not terribly moral and I might one day have to blackmail you."

"Well in that case, I should tell you, I know about your secret."

"You've tried that one and it didn't work, Lucy."

"I'm not talking about what I said about you and Mona." said Lucy with a sigh, "I know about what you've hid from everybody."

"Really, what is that?"

"I know you don't have much time left." Said Lucy.

Priest hung his head.

"How long have you known?"

"Since we first met." said Lucy, "It was... obvious."

"Alright, Wagner. We have a deal;you hide mine and I'll hide yours."

Lucy turned around and walked out, saying, "Goodnight."

* * *

_Gotham City, Maryland_

Mina drew the curtains open and opened the balcony windows, letting in the summer breeze. Barefoot she walked to the cabinet and poured herself a glass of finely aged cognac of which she took a few sips before placing it on top of the Steinway piano. She lifted the lid, and delicately ran her fingers on the keys before she started playing Beethoven's Moonlight sonata.

A few minutes into it the phone rang, she ignored it till the call went to the answering machine, at which point she stopped playing and listened.

_"Hello? Josephine, this is Mandy… I've been calling your cell and you haven't been picking up. Call me, this is important. It's McNeil, she's gone over to Leiter's side. This is Bad."_

The machine beeped as Mandy hung up.

"No, this is great." Said Mina as she started playing once again.

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Shaun returns to London, this time alone, to do something he's been thinking about for some time. Only it's not exactly what he said it would be. 


	26. The Road of Hate

**Three Months Ago. March 29****th****, 2008**

_London_

"I'll ask you one more time, you little bastard…"

Shaun couldn't help but whimper as the gun was pressed to the bottom of his jaw. His jaw hurt from being repeatedly punched early on by the Yorkshireman who currently held him at gunpoint, not to mention the rest of his body that ached just as much. Shaun's sore being was nothing he was worried about at the moment, for something far worse was occurring. Across the bar, two other men held firmly onto his wife of three years, Liz.

"…Where's Sheldon Sands?"

The gun was pulled out of Shaun's mouth, allowing him to speak.

"I dunno… I swear to Christ, I don't know…"

The man's face was blank of expression for a moment, leading Shaun to believe he hadn't heard him.

"I…I don't know where Sands is."

The man's face remained as expressionless as it was, even as he grabbed Shaun's neck and bashed him face first into the faucets.

"No, leave him alone!" Liz cried out as she tried to escape the grasp of the men who held her, but got her hair pulled back and slapped for her efforts.

"No!" cried Shaun, "Don't you dare!"

Shaun instantly realized the hollowness of his threats, made clearer by the chuckles of Liz's captors.

"Take the little pro to the back." The Yorkshireman ordered as he knocked Shaun to the ground before taking a rope out of his raincoat's pocket.

* * *

**Now**

Shaun stood on the street corner and looked across the street at the sign outside the pub. What was once known as the Winchester Tavern was now known as the O'Neil Pub. He lit the cigarette lodged between his teeth and quietly looked on as he inhaled.

According to the cashier behind the register of the newsagent he'd just left, the pub's previous owners, a married couple, had an unfortunate accident, the wife was found murdered in a manner most foul while the husband disappeared, though traces of his blood were found, leading the police to believe the two were victims of gang-related violence.

The bank that held the mortgage sold the place for a song, due to the daunting reputation the place had garnered with that incident as well as it being the site of a ghastly battle four years ago in what has come to be known as Z-Day. The new owner had rechristened it and only opened this week, with drinks' prices reduced in half for the first weekend and a performance by a live band.

Shaun couldn't help coughing. When he was finished he tossed his cigarette aside, picked up the rolled bundle he had with him and crossed the street, walking past a drunken couple leaned against a wall by the phone cabin, ferociously kissing. He pushed the door open and waltzed into the crowded pub.

Wilkinson certainly knew what he was doing, thought Shaun. On his first week the owner had a room-full of patrons; something Shaun hadn't managed until two or three months in his and Liz's time.

With some effort, Shaun squeezed his way to the bar he miraculously found an empty seat. He sat and waited for the barmaid to be free and surveyed the crowd, looking for anyone who might recognize him, and someone he was sure he would recognize, eventually finding him on the other side of the bar.

"What can I get you, love?" said the Barmaid as she approached him, leaning with her elbows on the bar.

"Do you see the chap over there?"

The barmaid looked over fleetingly and then looked back at Shaun.

"Yeah. He's been coming every other night since we've opened. Why?"

"Is he alone?"

"Um…This isn't that kind of bar, mate." Said the barmaid with a smile.

"I'm not gay."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." Said the barmaid with a suggestive smile. Shaun couldn't help but smile in return.

"Well, is he?"

"No. Charles drinks by his lonesome."

"Alright then, buy _Charles_ his next drink on me, if he asks say its from a lady admirer or something, just not from me."

"Sounds like you're having a laugh."

"I am." Said Shaun, "Charles and I, we go back. I haven't seen him in what feels like ages, I want to surprise him."

"Say no more, my good man. What about yourself?"

"Um, you know what? I'm waiting for someone and I don't want to get pissed before they come here." Said Shaun, "I'll have an orange juice for the time being."

"On it."

"You know what? Bring me a Vodka double as well."

"Right-o."

Shaun sat there for a minute or so, scanning all the lay before him. Looking at the autographed pictures on the wall, the bottles of expensive scotch lined in front of the mirror and the antique sword that had replaced that old Winchester rifle.

The barmaid arrived soon enough with the two drinks.

"Alright. One orange juice and one Vodka double, are you sure you don't want me to mix them and make a screwdriver?"

"Huh? No, thanks."

"I told your mate the drink was from a bird that just left. Are you sure you're not gay?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Well then, I suppose you have no real reason not to come to a party in Camden in a few hours? There'll be plenty of orange juice, I promise. Proper liquor too, you can have some. Who knows what you can have some of once we've both had a few drinks."

"Well, miss…"

"Rachael."

"Rachael. Not only am I not gay," said Shaun, raising one of his hands, "I'm also married."

"Oh, right." Said Rachael as she retreated, "Can't blame a girl for trying."

As Rachael went on to tend to the other patrons, Shaun looked at his hand, the golden wedding band on his finger, still with as much luster as it had the day he bought it. He then looked down upon the two drinks in front of him and picked up the orange juice. Shaun raised it to his lips and took a massive gulp, and then set the empty glass down and picked up the Vodka.

The noise surrounding Shaun slipped into a corner of his consciousness as he closed his eyes and took a whiff of the drink, his mind traveling to a time gone, a better time.

"Cheers, Liz." Said Shaun as he placed the glass down. He took out a ten pound note and placed it on the bar under his empty glass, got up and walked out.

* * *

**One Month Ago**

_The Volcano_

"As long as I lived in America, I've been mostly either a criminal or a spy, and if I dare say so, I was good at both." Said Priest as he sat on a chair in the gym while Shaun sat on he ground leaning against a wall with a bottle of energy drink his hand.

"With both I inevitably found myself in such a situation that shit happened and I had to get my hands dirty to keep things going, for instance; disposing of a body. If the need arises in the future, if you find a dead body on your hands that you're not too fond of. I may be with you at the time and in that case, you don't have to worry about anything, and maybe I won't, in that case it'll be your problem.

"The good thing is, there are too many bodies in the world and not enough cops to sort them out, do you have any idea how many dead bodies a New York homicide detective has on his hands at any time? Fucking many. Fact is, they're lucky a lot of the time to find ID on the body, or the body is somewhere an acquaintance will discover it.

"So, number one; find their wallet and burn it. Next, take away from the stiff anything that sets it apart from the next, which is where it gets tricky. Before I elaborate I should bring up the importance of owning a tub full of Hydrochloric acid around, or a lot of hungry maggots, or a crematorium, or someone who has one or the other. If you do, then all your problems are solved.

"If you don't, that's the tricky business I was talking about. First thing is finger prints, you'll have to either burn their hands with a blow torch or hack them off, but the second is just amateurish and pretty dastardly. Next; teeth. Cops can find out who anyone is through their dental records, it'll take time but it'll work. So, pull out their teeth. Teeth pop out easier than most people think, so that's one brake you're going to get.

"And then there's stuff that's not supposed to be there, such as tattoos and implants and so on. Tattoos are tricky to track down, but not impossible, so either burn or slice, same with fingerprints. Strip the body of clothes and check for surgical scars, somewhere where something like a screw or a nail or a plate could have been implanted. Better yet, use a metal detecting wand. If the deceased is a woman, you may want to check to see if she's had a boob-job. That might seem juvenile and perverse, but it's also professional. Silicone implants have serial numbers that are easy to track.

"After that, you may chop the head off to rule out someone accidentally recognizing the body, but that's overkill and borderline psychotic. Either way, try your best to hide the body. Ideally wrap it in chains and weights and drop it to the bottom of a river. The fishies will do their thing.

"Of course, before all that you need to cover your bases. Chances are the deceased die of a gunshot, right? Dig out the bullet and get rid of it. After that, have a drink and forget it ever happened."

* * *

**Now**

_London_

"….Wha' 'orrors in 'er 'ead, that 'er tongue dare no' name…" sang Chelios, walking down the street, slightly intoxicated. Chelios felt elated, having enjoyed the surprising free drink the barmaid bought him, claiming it was from a lady admirer, as well as arranging for a date sometime soon. He also had an extended tree-day weekend to look forward to and looked forward to spending it working on that painting he had at home.

Chelios forgot the words to the song, so he skipped to the next part he remembered.

"…Well Mis'er Smith and Mis'er Wesson," Chelios sang, he had forgotten how the song went next and thus skipped a good portion of it, "Why are you closin' up shop so late? We just fitted out a girl who looked like a bird, measured thirty-two, forty-four, thirty-eight. I asked the girl which road she was taking; she said she was walking the road of hate…"

"Charles Chelios."

"But she hopped on a coal… What?"

Chelios stopped in the middle of that side ally he was walking through and turned around to look behind him, where a blond haired man of his early thirties stood with his hands buried in his coat pockets.

"You alright, mate?" asked Chelios.

"I'm getting by. Nice night, eh?"

"Not bad." Said Chelios with a chuckle.

"What about you? Are you alright?"

"I'm not bad myself." Said Chelios, "Do I know you, chum?"

"I would think so." Said Shaun as he stepped forward, "So, you'v not been loosing any sleep or anything?"

"You know, you do look familiar… I'm sorry, what was it you said?"

"Why don't you look a little closer, see if that rings any bells." Said Shaun as he took a step forward, "See if that reminds you of anyone you've tried to lynch."

Without any warning, Shaun shot with a punch. Chelios was a shade away from sober, and he was not expecting a fight, so when the fist connected with his jaw, all he did was fall down.

"Bloody hell." Cursed Shaun as he took his coat off and tossed aside then went to roll up his sleeves, "I got eager… I had this whole speech, but I couldn't help myself."

Shaun kicked Chelios in the ribs as he was trying to get up, flipping him onto his back. Chelios coughed hard, then looked up Shaun with angry eyes now sober.

"You… You're Collier..."

"Good, you've remembered." Said Shaun as he went to kick him again. This time Chelios caught his leg and with one motion twisted it, sending Shaun spinning onto the ground.

"Aw, Christ…" Chelios muttered as he got to his feet, "You should have stayed lost, Collier. You were better off."

"You killed Liz." 

"Actually, I was that one that lynched you." Said Chelios as he punched Shaun in the jaw, knocking him down.

"Did you think this through, mate? Did you think I would get pissed so proper that you'd have a day beating the shit out of me? I don't know what the hell you were expecting, but I hope it wasn't beating me... You're a bartender for fuck's sake."

Chelios' knee exploded into Shaun's jaw, sending Shaun off his knees and onto his back. Chelios leaned down to pick Shaun up by his collars, and as he did, he heard him mumble something.

"What did you say?"

"I said… I'm not a fucking bartender anymore."

Quicker than Chelios though the weakened Shaun was capable of, Shaun raised his hands and slipped them between his forarms, then spread them with a bw before folding his left hand into a sort of flat fist that he shot directly at Chelios's throat.

Chelios stumbled back, gasping for breath. Shaun got up to his feet and sized up Chelios before he raised one leg and kicked him in the side of the head. Chelios slammed face first into the brickwall behind him before crumbling down.

Chelios struggled to breathe, managing to get only enough air in his lungs to remain conscious. Shaun disappeared, having headed to the other side of the ally. Chelios heard a car door open and close a few moments later, and then heard footsteps coming his director, before finally hearing a familiar metallic clicking sound.

Chelios was breathing somewhat normally by then and was just about to try and get up when Shaun came into view and kicked him in the groin. Shaun held his Winchester with both hands as waited for Chelios to stop groaning.

"Look at me."

Chelios looked up, and found himself facing the barrel of a gun.

"It was nothing personal."

"What?"

"I was just doing my job, following orders."

Shaun dropped the Winchester then punched Chelios as hard as he could. Shaun kicked him in the jaw, and didn't have a second thought as he heard the sound of bones breaking. He punched him again and again, and when Chelios slipped to the ground, he crouched atop his chest, mercilessly beating his fists, growing more and more aggressive as spluttering blood coated his fingers and loose skin hung from his knuckles.

Growing too tired, feeling his hands ache, Shaun got up. Without a word he took a few steps back and picked up the Winchester with one hand then stood by Chelios' head as it slumped on the pavement. He shoved the barrel between his bleeding lips and broken teeth, his finger vibrating on the trigger.

"You killed my wife… It doesn't get any more personal than that."

Shaun took a look around to make sure there were no bystanders or passing cars, and then pulled the trigger.

The sound gunshot resounded through the neighborhood for a second before it disappeared as if it never happened. Shaun looked down at Chelios' body, his eyes filled with bemused fear. He leaned down and turned the head to the side, and saw that the bullet had pierced the back of his head and was lodged in the cobblestone.

Shaun lay the Winchester down on the ground then took out a butterfly knife out of his back-pocket, opened it and used it to dig the bullet out. He then retrieved the spent shell and buried everything in his pocket.

Shaun stood up and put on his coat, then picked up Chelios' feet and dragged him deeper into the ally to where his car was parked.

* * *

**Three Weeks Ago**

_The Volcano_

" Tell me, why are you here in this room." Said Al-Sheikh, "Tell me why you aim to be the point men in the effort to topple the league, even though you are faced with a high probability of failure, the risk of a very certain, very painful, very slow, very fast approaching death or worse. Tell me your true motives; tell me what drives you, and let us begging to build that trust….."

And so everyone spoke, O'Brien spoke of wanting to prove himself to a dead family, Mona said she was compelled to do something, Lucy claimed she wanted to disprove predestination, Sayid admitted seeking atonement while Priest confessed to feeling burdened with guilt. Finally, all that was left was Shaun.

"…..Mister Collier?"

"Whay? Isn't it obvious?" asked Shaun, ever so coldly, "I'm in it for revenge. That's all that's left."

* * *

**Now**

_London_

Shaun watched as the body wrapped in green tarp was swept away by the current, pleased to see it drown, he'd hoped it'd stay that was for some time.

Shaun crouched down and started gathering his gear, a blow torch, a hacksaw, a metal detector and a bloody scalpel; he gathered everything into a black bag that he closed securely. 

A minute later, Shaun was driving in his car, heading back to Crawley. It was going to be a long drive.

Shaun couldn't help but crack half a smile, that in second grew to a full blown grin. Shaun was laughing soon enough, it was going to be a long drive back to Crawley and his teammates, but it was alright.

"Your guns are drunk and smokin', they followed you right back to your gates, laughing all the way from the new town, of population now; 28…"

* * *

There you have it, Shaun has lost quite a few of his marbles. And according to last chapter, Lucy is dying and Priest has feelings for Shaun…. Or perhaps it's the other way around. R&R!

**Next Chapter: **Jack Borroughs suffers writers block. The minutemen sit idly by as the author attempts to regain the creative juices.

**PS.** The Song Chelios and then Shaun sing is Crow Jane by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds.


	27. The Man from Tokyo

**1959**

_Royale-Le-Eaux, France_

The man sat at the bar, feeling his world fall all around him. For he had lost, something his ego never learned to deal with. The touch on his shoulder made him feel worse; made him begin to picture everyone he had failed. He shrugged it off angrily, without looking and growled,

"Christ, Vesper. Not now!"

Bond felt terrible. He looked down at the oak under his arms and didn't bare look, her felt her fragrant scent thing as she walked away, quiet as a ghost.

"Martini; and shake it."

As the bartender went ahead and prepared the drink, Bond wallowed in his own misery, failing to notice as a man sat on the bar next to him.

"You must be out of your damn mind, sending such a classy dame like that away."

The bartender placed the drink right in front of Bond, saying, "Your drink, messier."

Bond raised his head and picked up his drink then eagerly raised it to his lips and drank.

"The fact that you lost all that money is no damn excuse."

Bond looked aside, angered at the rude patron's comments.

"Excuse me, but unless I know you, you're bloody wrong to talk to me like that."

The patron was of his mid-to-late thirties, of average build and height, though that still made him much shorter than Bond. His hair was black and he had a drooping moustache. He wore a dark gray three-piece suit and spoke with an American accent, apparently hailing from Chicago.

"Night's young. I bet will be old Chinas by the night's end." Said the American as he took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket's pocket and took one cigarette out, he lodged it between his teeth and lit it with zippo he had in his hand.

_"Bartender, a glass of Vodka. Pure Vodka. Put the gentleman's charges on my check."_

The American had spoke in perfect, unaccented French. Bond grew terribly suspicious of him, particularly with his use of the term 'Old Chinas', a slang-term for old friends unlikely to be heard outside of East London.

"You would be?"

"George Kaplan." Said the American as he extended his hand.

Bond shook the American's hand hesitantly. The man's grip was very strong, and incredibly cold.

"Arlington Beach."

"I know… That's got to be the worst pseudonym I had ever heard of. Heheh. And to think you boys gave us Tennyson and Kipling. Well, _Mister Beach_, I have to admit that it is a shame what happened."

"Shame? That doesn't begin to describe it."

"Yes, I imagine. I think you could have had him, old man. You could have won. Another hand… And you could have won, cleaned that shifty eye Le Chiffre out. Maybe you should give it another try."

"I'm out of money." Said Bond, "Though I'll still pay for my own drinks."

"You should keep playing, _Mister Beach_. Believe me."

Bond's suspicion was piqued.

"Who are you?"

"I'm your cousin." Said the American, "From Langley, Virginia."

The bartender handed _Kaplan_ his drink and he quickly took a swallow.

"My god, that is excellent." Said _Kaplan_, "I know we're at war with the Reds, but that doesn't change the fact they make a fine drink. It has to be said, there's no pint in overreacting."

"What interest does the CIA have in this?" asked Bond.

"We know that MI6 has sent you out here to clean out at the big poker game, particularly you are interested in wiping out Le Chiffre. Le Chiffre is an agent of the KGB, funneling money for their foreign intelligence activities, but he's been investing some of his employers' money unwisely. He's lost and this is why he's here, he's trying to win the KGB's money back. You are here to toss the mother of all wrenches at that plan, so Le Chiffre has no chance but defect to England."

"And why are you here?"

"Case you screw the pooch." Said _Kaplan_ as he swallowed the rest of his drink in one gulp, "Which, let's face it, you did."

"And what are you going to do?"

"It's already been done, son." Said _Kaplan_ as he got up, placing several francs on the bar that covered his and Bond's charges and picking up his cigarettes, "You're back n the game, I bought you back in. I'll be in London in one week to have my turn at Le Chiffre, which you will allow since without Uncle Sam's help you would have directly funded the Reds to spy on us. Now go get 'em, tiger."

* * *

**Now**

_London_

"And then what happened?" asked Harmony as she lay in bed, her head resting against Bond's flank.

"Well, I won." Said Bond, raising his glass of Scotch to his lips.

"But that was my undoing. Vesper, my partner on that mission was working for the Russians; she collaborated with Le Chiffre into luring me away and trapping me. He tried to torture me into giving him back his money, but I didn't give in."

"Did it hurt?"

"Of course it bloody did, that's why people talk when it happens to them."

"What happened next?"

"Just about as he was going to kill me, an assassin burst in and took him out. Not our side, mind. He spared me, claiming that he had no orders to take me out and that he couldn't be bothered."

"They got away?"

"At the time, yes. But I defeated them all, sooner or later. As for the American, I never saw him again."

Bond finished off his drink and then placed it aside.

"I need to make a few calls." Said Bond as he gently pushed Harmony away from him and got out of bed, wrapping a robe around his bear body as he exited the room.

_**--**_

"Good evening, Felix." Said Bond as he held the cell phone to his ear.

_"James, good hearing from you. The plain from Tokyo just landed; I'll be meeting with Suzuki in ten hours."_

"Good." Said Bond, "Listen, Felix, we've been good friends for forty-six years, now, that's a lifetime. I've come to trust you like I trust myself."

_"James, you don't need to explain. I know what's at stake here, I'm going to see the kid, make sure we have a rapport. I wouldn't let you down, Jim."_

"I know you wouldn't. Goodbye, Felix."

**_--_**

**Ten Hours Later**

_New York_

Jeimuzu Suzuki was a man of his early forties, well built and tall, a little over six feet. His hair was slick and black and his eyes were a dim shade of green. He had a faded vertical scar on his left cheek that far from being grotesque, added to his charm and air of mystery.

With an ever present smile Suzuki sauntered to Leiter's side with a martini in his hand and the two of them stood upon the balcony outside Leiter's office on the top floor of the Kong Building. It wasn't really a balcony, it was more of an ample, roofless triangle at the corner of the building, it had a wide walkway between two triangular pools with no railing at all; one could fall very easily if one wasn't careful.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" said Leiter, raising his glass of bourbon to his lips and taking a sip, "I swear, some sights you just never get used to."

"It _is_ amazing." Said Suzuki with hint of amusement.

Leiter chuckled.

"I'm glad you think so. Some people, it gets too much for them. I'm glad you're not one of those people. You know Jeimuzu… Do you mind if I call you that?"

"Not at all."

"That's great, you can call me Felix. Jeimuzu, your predecessor was a great man, we all respected and honored him _everyone_, the director; most and foremost. I just want you to know that we wouldn't just give the job away to anyone. We're all counting on you, kid."

"I appreciate you trust, Felix, I truly do."

"Well, don't. You deserve it, with Project Phoenix already underway, we need the best man we can get. Anyway, in a year or so, you're going to be running the war in East Asia and you'll wonder why you signed up for this job. I want you savor these moments, Jeimuzu, for the dark times that lay ahead of us.

"Enough about that, tell me a little about yourself."

"You already know all there needs to be known."

"Not really, there's only so much intelligence can reveal."

"I assume this is about my parents." Said Suzuki with a sip of his drink and slight sigh.

"You know my mother was Kessy Suzuki, a secret service agent. I didn't have a father growing up, my mother claimed he was a civilian she had a brief relationship with before he died in a car crash. After her death I learned it was actually Tiger Tanaka, once head of the Japanese Secret Service. He was a married man, an important man. You know how these things are. Anyway, for all I know he never knew I was his son."

"I see. To tell you the truth, you will find many of us who will sympathize. I never knew my daddy either, the directors parents died young too. Hell, might as well call it the League of orphans."

"Felix, I sense there is something you want to tell me."

Leiter took a gulp of his own drink.

"We're well into the second year of project phoenix, and with each day, the reality of it grows more and more real. For this to work, for us to prevail, for mankind to emerge out of the war to come in an elevated state, we need to be sure as ever. Now, there is no one in the League that doesn't believe in what we're doing. However, there are those who can't help but exist simply to rock the boat.

"You doubtless realize that the League at times is not as united as we would like to believe, we have our share of rivalries. Don't get me wrong, a sense of competition is great, it's what makes nations like yours and mine the greatest on earth. But this rivalry, it cannot evolve into becoming an outright fued. There are unofficial sides, there's mine, Bond's a few others…"

"And there's Josephine." Said Suzuki calmly.

"My, we did pick the right man." Said Leiter with a smirk, "Exactly. Josephine is a very able woman; a great veteran of our organization. She is also prone to her feminine nature; she sometimes loose her sense of logic and she can have an inflated sense of her own importance at times. She has aligned a few of us with her, and as long as our side outnumbers her, everything will continue to run smoothly.

"I'm sorry to put you through this, but you have to pick a side. Normally, you would have your time. But these are not normal times. You have to choose one side or the other, being neutral is not an option."

"Mister Leiter… The Gotham Branch repeatedly contacted my office enquiring on when and if I would pay them a visit this week. I have so far made unenthused, half-hearted promises to see what I can do. At the moment I think I shall meet with her for less than two hours on two days. Does that answer your question?"

Leiter stared at Suzuki for a few long moments before he cracked a smile and said,

"I'm glad we're on the same page, but you don't want to piss her off. Seriously."

"I'll take that under advisement."

"Don't fuck around! Ha ha! Now, tell me, Jeimuzu, how's your backhand?"

* * *

Yes, we're back. I've got a few ideas that I'm eager to type, though I don't think I'll be doing it as regularly as I used to.

I will point out that the opening scene set in '59 is based upon Ian Fleming's Casino Royale, particularly the recent movie adaptation evident in Bond using the alias of _Arlington Beach_, since the Bond seen here is the one from the Connery and Lazenby movies, that means he and Leiter did not meet until '62 during the events of Dr. No. Leiter's stand-in is CIA Agent George Kaplan, who is in reality none other than Judas Priest as we have seen him use that alias previously.

Kissy Suzuki and Tiger Tanaka are from Moonraker.

**Next Chapter:** The Flatiron building sees some interesting tenants moving in.

R&R.


	28. Flatiron

**Now**

_New York City_

"You know, there was a time when I would have paid to vote for Jack Kennedy."

Priest stood by the open window in an office space on one of the lower floors of the Flatiron building, leaning against the frame with his elbows and looking out at Broadway.

"That's hard to imagine." Said Lucy as she sat cross-legged on the couch inside, one of only two pieces of furniture, stroking the neck of a gray cat that lay on her lap.

"Yeah, apart from being a spy and a creature of the night I was a decent citizen back in the day. Things have changed, obviously. Today I'm a former drug-smuggler turned mercenary conspiring to keep the democrats from getting the presidency."

"Well… She's just in bed with the League. Her party-affiliation is of no importance."

"True… God, sometimes I think I fought on the wrong side in the cold war."

"That's random."

"I love communism."

"Eh, can we change the subject?" asked Lucy, "Like, where did this little kitty come from?"

Priest shrugged.

"It was by the door when we moved in. Someone let it in by accident, I suppose."

"I think we should keep her. I like cats."

"Funny, I had you pegged for a dog lover."

"Dogs are stupid. What should we name her?"

"Whatever you want, cupcake."

"How about Erica?"

"No."

"Erica is a fantastic name."

"It's also the name of my wife."

"You're married?"

"She slept with my brother at the behest of my father over two hundred years ago and I haven't seen her since. Don't ask."

"Okay. How about Sophia?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Oh, right. I forgot about that, sorry. What about Vivian?"

"Lucy, are you reading me for women's names?"

"No, I mean I'm not trying to. Who's Vivian?"

"She was the mother of my son. Again, don't ask. Don't name her Erica, Vivian, Sophia, Drucilla, Carmella or Lilith."

Lucy sighed.

"Okay. Did you have a catastrophic relationship with a woman named Ingrid?"

"I killed an Ingrid once. Nazi scientist, I don't feel conflicted about it."

"Oh, thank god."

"Seeing as the crisis of what to name the cat is behind us," said Sayid as he kneeled by a table in the other room, busy installing some electronic equipment, "Would one of you like to help me?"

"I wouldn't like it." Said Lucy, "Also, I shock easily, it's uncanny."

"Why don't you ask Mona; she used to do this sort of thing for a living before she became an assassin."

"Mona is with O'Brien at the pier, meeting Captain Nemo."

"Didn't he already leave?"

"I was under the same impression; apparently he had one more piece of equipment to deliver."

"We've got too much equipment already, with the hardware we got from Nemo and the toys that _Q_ character gave us. In the old days all a guy needed was his gray matter, a piece of piano wire and a butterfly knife. I'm not sure what half of it is, anyway."

"I can walk you though it if you like."

"No, thanks. There's a reason I don't know much about what all this is, I can't be bothered. What about Shaun?"

"Exploring the neighborhood, he seems to be awe-struck by the city."

"Everyone is, the first time. Is this your first time in New York, Sayid?"

"No, I passed through here in 1998. I was looking for someone."

"Lucy?"

"Physically, yes. But I once was psychically entangled with someone her."

"I'm not sure what that means, but thanks. Doesn't Shaun seem different?" asked Priest, "Ever since he went to visit his wife's grave… I swear it's like he's changed."

* * *

"This is the same car I used when I went to meet Wayne, right?" asked Mona as she circled a jet black 2007 Dodge Charger with tinted windows. Nemo stood close by in the parking garage while O'Brien kicked the tires.

"It is indeed. O'Brien, what do you think you're doing?"

"Inspecting, boss. What kind of mileage does this thing get?"

"Infinite."

"Come again?"

"This car's never has to be filled?" asked Mona with widened eyes, "Jesus, Nemo. Where'd you get it from?"

"I could tell you, Miss Sax, but it won't make your life any easier."

"Alright, I'll take your word for it."

"It's armored, completely bulletproof and can even survive short-range missile attacks. It also needs to maintenance at all; no oil change, no tire rotation, it doesn't even get a flat tire."

"Okay, so maybe you can tell me what the hell when I'm doe using it."

"I'll keep that in mind." Said Nemo as he approached Mona, "Listen, the features I just mentioned are mostly secondary. There is something about it."

"What is it?"

"I want you to use it only for transport, that's the only way to be sure of it remaining stable. However, there may be a need sometime for a certain weapon, something unconventional. I assure you, this is a last resort type of thing in the strictest sense of the word, and I fear what may happen if you ever have to use it, I'm not sure it can be contained if it happens…"

"Nemo, you've lost me."

"Listen, in an event where the Minutemen find themselves in a tight jam where you have no hope of fighting your way out of it, when every solution has been exhausted, as a last resort you may activate a special feature in this car. To do so, simply say…"

Nemo leaned forward and whispered into Mona's ear.

"Nirvana and Shambala."

"Nir-"

"Shhh! Don't you dare say it aloud!"

"Alright, sorry. So I say the phrase and then what?"

"You get out of the way and wait for everything to sort itself out. You may say the phrase 'Shambala and Nirvana' to deactivate the feature. Remember, this is a doomsday contingency."

"Got it."

"Good." Said Nemo, looking over Mona's shoulder as O'Brien as he was jumping on the car's front grill, checking it for stability, "How are they holding up?"

"Pretty good, considering."

Nemo's watch suddenly beeped, he glanced at it and slightly curled his lip as if it signified a minor unpleasantness.

"I see." Said Nemo and tossed Mona a keychain with a single key attached, bearing an odd emblem before walking away.

"Wear your seatbelt."

"See you around, Captain."

"Hope so."

"Can I drive?" asked O'Brien.

"No." Said Mona as she eyes the emblem on the key, it was unlike any other she had seen before, certainly not one that belonged on a key of a dodge car.

"Hey, Nemo." Said Mona as she looked back to see no one. Nemo had disappeared completely among endless rows of cars in that underground parking garage where he couldn't have walked to the nearest exit since he left.

"Did you see where Nemo went?"

"Nope." Said O'Brien, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive? I'm a kick-ass driver."

"Not today, Eel."

* * *

Six of the minutemen sat around the table by in kitchen of their _office_, while Kroenen sat on an armchair in the corner, like some ominous empty suit of hellish armor, while _Ingrid_ purred at his feet.

"So what are we supposed to do, boss-lady?" asked O'Brien.

"I'm not your boss-lady." Said Mona, "We're all equals in this."

"Um, I'm all for equality, but shouldn't someone be on top?"

"If it makes you feel better, I will always look down on you." Said Priest as he sipped his coffee.

"When we're in the middle of an operation, I'll be calling the shots." Said Mona, "Until then, we think everything through together. Alright?

"Now, elections are in November; that gives us little under four months to force McNeil to step down. Doing that won't be easy, and it won't be safe. We'll have to be patient, thorough and careful. We can do this, like Priest said; she's a politician and all politicians have something to hide. So, what do we do?"

"I've set up all the equipment," said Sayid, "We can begin surveillance on a massive scale as soon as we can plant a few bugs."

"I'm up for it." Said Priest.

"Count me in, too." Said O'Brien.

"Good."

"What about me?" asked Lucy.

"McNeil's going to be in the city soon, if we can get you close enough, can you do a reading?"

"The League would have given her a psychic barrier, wouldn't they?"

"That would require a significant amount of trust." Said Sayid.

"You're right. Though they might use some kind of barrier they can get around. It would be worth a gander, I also doubt they could have given her aids any barriers themselves."

"What about the New York cell?" asked Shaun, "I mean we have agents already here, right? Shouldn't we be working alongside them?"

"I imagine those have their own jobs to do." Said Sayid.

"Exactly, they're passing the intelligence they gather along to Mason who will be sharing it with us if he thinks it is necessary.

"Any questions? Any suggestions?"

The minutemen looked between themselves, there was no a word to be spoken. Mona stood up.

"I guess that's it, meeting adjourned. Have a nice night."

"Where are you going?" asked Shaun.

"Home."

"I thought we were staying here."

"This is the Flatiron, a New York landmark." Said Priest as he stood up along with the others and started walking toward the exit, "Using it as a residence is unheard of. If someone notices that we don't leave at some point to go home, they're going to assume that unlike what it says on our lease, we are not a small dot-com company that sells collector's comic books."

"Exactly. We'll room in twos, Lucy will be staying with me at my, Sayid and Jarrah, O'Brien and Shaun."

"Alright, want to have a bite before you turn in?" asked Priest.

"I don't think so." Said Mona.

"Come on, you're back in your old town. The cops have probably got tired of looking for you."

"Oh, alright."

"This'll be fun. We'll have a pizza, a couple of drinks, watch Lucy get hammered which is great for a laugh…"

"Hey!"

"…And I'll tell you all about the time Nemo and I broke Mona out of jail."

* * *

Alright, annotations. First of, Erika is the name of Priest's wife, she is a secondary character in _Underworld_. Vivian is the unnamed wife of Stagger Lee, the man of the eponymous folk blues song. I believe I explained who Sophia is early on.

Drucilla is a vampire from _Buffy_, Carmilla is a literary character created by Joseph Sheridan Le Fanu. Priest's mom is named after the vampire of Jewish folklore and Mesopotamian deity.

Also, I'm sure you can guess what the car is about.

**Next Chapter:** Sayid and Priest head to Gotham to perform a favor for a friend of the opposition.


	29. Little Drops of Poison

**Now**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"_I like my town… with a little drop of poison_." sang the man in the purple suit, the lacerated corner of his mouth twitching into a gruesome smile, cracking the thick layer of eggshell-white grease paint.

The Joker hung his head, and stayed completely still for the better part of a minute, increasing the silent panic in city hall, causing the hearts of the dozens and dozens of hostages to race faster than they had for the past twenty minutes.

Finally, a sinister, growl-like voice emitting from the statuesque horror, beckoning one of its lieutenants,

"Harley?"

Harley, a frail blond woman of her late twenties brandishing an Uzi snapped out of her own world and looked up toward the Joker.

"Puddin'?"

"Has an hour passed?"

"It's only been twenty-six minutes, Mister J."

"Is the gimp here, yet?"

"Um, no."

The Joker sighed.

"That's disappointing. Time was when we'd threaten a family of four, he'd come with guns blazing. Now we've got the city's rich and powerful and he can't be bothered, I tell ya, Harley. The man's loosing his edge, it's like he doesn't care anymore."

"_No body knows… They're lining up to go and sing_."

"Don't, Harley. Tom Waits would roll in his grave." Said the Joker as he picked up an automatic rifle off the bench he sat on.

* * *

**Earlier**

The black dodge barreled down the road running through the woods, the engine rumbling with a seductive roar as raindrops bounced off its tinted windows.

"How far are we?" asked Sayid as he solved the crossword puzzle in a copy of the Metropolis Daily Planet.

"About forty five minutes outside city limits. Seventeen." Said Priest as he sat behind the wheel.

"That counted?"

"I don't make the rules. Sixteen."

"Sevent..?! Hhhh, are you alive?"

"Yes. Fifteen."

"Are you in arts or entertainment?"

"No…. Look, it stopped raining. You mind if we stop? I need to have a pish."

"It's not sundown yet."

"It's cloudy. I won't catch fire, it feels a little humid but I'll be fine."

"Go on then."

Priest took his foot off the gas pedal and pressed the breaks till the car came to a smooth stop at the side of the road. Both passengers stepped out of the car whose engine was kept running. Sayid leaned with his back to the door he stepped out of and opened a thermos he carried, pouring himself a cup of tea while Priest headed into the woods.

"Hey, Sayid. You ever been to Gotham?" called Priest from the bushes.

"No."

"Well it's just like New York. New York below Fifteenth Street on the coldest night in November at half-past-midnight."

"Seeing as how you do mind talking while you're having your piss. Might I ask why were you so eager to volunteer to come here with me?"

"Mona was going to tell me to anyway, only she, I and O'Brien have ever been to Gotham. She can't just up and leave and O'Brien's an idiot."

"I could have come alone. And it's not like I need watching over."

"Well, you're brown, and his is a very paranoid time we live in. Besides, I needed a break from Kroenen."

"You really don't like him."

"I'm sorry; do you like the mass-murdering Nazi war criminal?"

"He's a tool. You wouldn't be opposed to firing a Lugar, would you?"

"I don't use guns. And fuck him. Do you know I met him before?"

"When?"

"World War 2. Castle Wolfenstein. The little shitbag hacked off half my palm before I managed to punt him out of a church tower….. Sayid, tell me you packed a fresh change of clothes."

"Why?" asked Sayid, sipping his tea, "Did you soil yourself?"

"Oh." Said Priest as he emerged from the woods, smiling with glee, thick crimson dripping down his chin and drenching his shirt, "You can say that."

* * *

**Now**

"I'm bored, Mister J." said Harley, uneasily fidgeting with her Uzi, "Can we start killing all these people?"

"Is it time, yet?"

"He's still got twenty minutes to be here."

"Then no." said the Joker, and then got up and took off his jacket, revealing holstered magnums below each arm.

The crowd gasped as the painted mass murderer pulled one of them out, and braced themselves for what they knew was inevitable. But far from firing his revolver madly into the crowd, the Joker whipped it to the side, swinging out the cylinder, taking all bullets out but one then slapped the side of it causing the drum to spin and return and lock into its position.

"My audience, I do apologize." Spoke the Joker softly, yet remained as menacing as ever, "I realize that many of you would rather be not under the threat of gruesome death, and I realize that all of you are growing impatient with the delay of our main event. Therefore allow me the pleasure of entertaining you with that most wonderful of discarded arts…. Russian Roulette."

The Joker continued amid screams of horror and fainting yelps, "Invented by Mikhail Bakunin and Mikhail Lermontov in 1870 while in a bar in Minsk, for the purpose of impressing a salty trio of whore-sisters and weaseling their way into a free ride, pardon my French. Hehehehhhe.. I'm going to need a volunteer. Anyone?"

"Can I play, Mister J?"

"Harley. Sit down, look remotely pretty."

"Hmph."

"Anyone?" called the Joker, "Tell you what, I'll go first."

The Joker calmly raised the revolver and pressed it to the bottom of his chin, and without a care in the world pulled the trigger.

"Easy as that. Who wants to go now? Oh, I know. How about dear Police Commissioner Jack Grogan? Boys, get me the commish."

Two of the Joker's men went to where the Commissioner was, kneeling on the ground with his hands tied behind his head. He was brought before the Joker, quite against his will. He was kicked in the knees and made to kneel before the murdering clown.

Grogan looked up at the Joker with a look of rage and panic in his eyes, and said something muffled by the gag in his mouth.

"What was that, Jack? You want me to do the honor? Hehehhehh. Why, sure I will!"

The Joker raised the gun to the Commissioner Grogan's forehead and pulled the trigger.

* * *

**Earlier**

"For fuck's sake, Sayid. It was a damn fox that I ate in the woods. A wounded one at that; I put the poor thing out of its misery."

"It's still disturbing," said Sayid, "Don't ever do it around me again."

"Hmph. Lightweight." Said Priest as Sayid pulled up the car by a diner just inside the city limits.

"Do you want anything from inside?"

"No. And don't kill anyone."

"I'll try."

Priest took off his sunglasses as he walked up to the door and pushed it open, stepping into the diner and taking several steps before noticing the gun pointed at him.

"Stay where you're at, shitbag. Get on your knees."

Priest looked around at the patrons, frozen with fear, and then calmly looked at the woman brandishing it, and felt a flash of recognition as he saw the familiar face.

"She said get on your knees, you cunt!"

Before the man spoke, Priest knew he would speak in a British accent, and then it all came back to him, he remembered where he saw the couple, the blonde man and the auburn haired woman of middle age.

"Yolanda!" said Priest with a toothy grin.

"What? How the fuck do you know her name?" demanded the Englishman.

"New Jersey, last November. You were sticking up the place and made a mess of it….. I see that hasn't cooled you off."

"Whatever, get on your knees." Said Yolanda unconfidently, "Give me your watch and your wallet."

"You sure you don't want to let me go for old time's sake?"

"Shut the fuck-"

"Thought so."

Priest reached forward and grabbed Yolanda's wrist, twisted her into an excruciating armbar that forced her to relinquish her gun while Priest used her as a shield between himself and the Englishman.

"Let her go!" yelled the Englishman, waving his pistol carelessly.

"Shan't." growled Priest as his eyes turned a deeper shade of black and his fangs bulged and caressed Yolanda's pale neck to the shock and horror of the patrons, the Englishman first and foremost. Yolanda whimpered in fear and anguish.

"What the fuck??"

"I have this madam's gun; I can shoot you in neck, shattering your spine while I rip through Yolanda's neck. You'd both be dead under two seconds and it'd feel like weeks. But I just gave my word to a chap outside that I would try my best not to kill anyone, I didn't expect that I'd have to live up to that promise, but here we are. Your move, my old China."

"Timmy, do what he says!"

"Fine, fine." Said the Englishman as he laid his gun on the counter and got down on his knees, "I give up, just let her go."

"Toss the gun over to me."

Tim did as he was asked and tossed the gun, and while the weapon was in mid air Priest violently shoved Yolanda towards him, knocking them both to the ground.

As the two crooks were on the ground, Priest headed to a table where two young women. They shirked as he reached below the table, only to see hi retrieve a cell phone wrapped in tape.

"You should start running."

"What?" asked one of the young women.

"I'm not talking to you, I'm talking to Bonnie and Clyde."

"What?" asked Tim, "Why?"

"I'm giving you a chance, Timmy. We crooks are meant to stick together. Now get up and leg it. And nobody dare stop them, alright?"

Yolanda and Timmy exchanged a look of before scrambling to their feet and bolting toward the door.

* * *

Sayid listened intently as he sat inside the car and adjusted the radio knob. The music's pitch had grown low and was becoming overcome by static, it soon become obvious to Sayid that his efforts were pointless as it was not a problem with the reception.

Soon enough the music was cut and a deep, toneless voice droned.

"Good evening, Gotham. This is the Joker speaking."

Sayid's eyebrows rose as he listened to this most odd broadcast.

"Sometimes I can only remember the day I made, and there sometimes I remember cycling down Kane Street, in that vision I have pigtails so I'm not sure what to think. Point is; for as long as I remember this town has been run by the greedy and the corrupt, the self-serving politicians and fashionless mobsters.

"And just when we were at out lowest, when we were about to despair, arose a man in a black rubber suit to dispense justice with unabashed ruthlessness. This will not stand, I, as a proud citizen of Gotham refuse to give in. I will not be ruled by bat or by the harsh baton of authority. I have taken it upon myself to give this city the kick in the pants it really needs, which is why I've taken over city hall.

"The mayor is here, as is the commissioner, the public advocate and a group of multiethnic and adorable little, innocent children. And unless the Batman shows his ugly mug over here in one hour or less, I will start killing people. I hope you have a pleasant evening, please enjoy yourselves as we return to your scheduled programming."

The static rose and was soon replaced with music.

* * *

**Now**

"Well," said the Joker as he took a whiff, savoring the smells of blood and cordite, "That ended quick."

Screams of horror echoed through city hall as the Joker slipped his gun back into its holster and stepped over Commissioner Grogan's body, without noticing or caring that he had stepped into his brains.

"Time?"

"We're Seventeen minutes away, puddin'." Said Harley, "Why don't you kill someone else, Mister J?"

"Because his hour isn't up, yet."

"But-"

"That was different; there was no telling which one of us was going to do. When the hour is up, people WILL start dying."

The Joker took his jacket back on, and then picked up his Thompson and asked,

"What did you say the time was?"

"Sixteen minutes to go."

"Sixteen? Well, fuck it. Let's pretend a whole hour has passed."

The Joker turned around, preparing to fire into the crowd, only to be met with a figure cloaked in black.

"Joker…" said growled the Batman.

"Bats, you took your sweet ass time getting here. Don't you care about these people anymore? Huh? What have you to say for yourself?"

"Let's get this over with; what do you want for their lives?"

The Joker took a step back, sizing up his adversary.

"Are…. Did you loose some height? I seem to remember you…. Taller."

"What do you want for these people's lives, Joker?"

"And who said I intended on sparing them if you came?" asked the Joker as he gave Batman his back, while a number of his men aimed their machine guns at him.

"In that case what's to stop me from feeding you your arm?"

"A general lack of balls. Face it, if you had it in you, you would have done it over two years ago when we first met." Said the Joker, "And as for what you can do…."

The Joker spun around, expertly took his aim and pulled the trigger. Batman was torn from his feet and knocked to the ground.

"…You can lay there for a few seconds. Boys, bonfire time."

Amid cries of horror and screams of outrage, the Batman was doused with gasoline.

The Joker stood before his fallen enemy who lay flailing on the ground, lighting a pipe with a wooden match. He took a few consecutive puffs, glumly looking upward toward the skylight.

"This doesn't feel right; I always thought the end of us would come after a long, drawn out battle of wits, detective versus criminal mastermind, and bat versus clown. It's a shame that it's going to end this way, with you getting set on fire like some other unlucky asshole… Hell, bats, I'm gonna miss ya."

And with that, the Joker dropped the match, setting the Batman ablaze.

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Weirdness.


	30. Chapter 30

**Now**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"I did." Said the Joker tonelessly, gazing upon the charred body of the Batman.

"I killed Batman. I killed the dark knight himself, I shot Mister Dark Justice and then set his ass on fire, and I did it in front of a bunch of innocent little children! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker's laugh grew terribly louder and louder, sending torrents of horror through all present, including his own men and his lover.

"Somebody get me Santa Claus!"

* * *

**Earlier**

"You told this man who I am?" asked Bruce Wayne as he stepped into the elevator.

"The man's name is Sayid Jarrah, and yes." Said Priest, "It was a long drive and I didn't think you'd mind."

Pries and Sayid followed Wayne into the elevator that had opened into Wayne's office at the top floor of the Wayne Enterprises building. The elevator door was shut on both and the elevator started to descend.

"Mister Wayne, if you're worried about your identity, I assure you that you shouldn't. I can hold my share of secrets…" said Sayid.

"I'm sure you do, Mister…."

"Jarrah."

"Mister Jarrah. However I have not been doing this by trusting people I've just met."

"Come on, Wayne. I have a body count in six figures and a criminal records as long as our combined heights, and I haven't betrayed your secret. Anyway, the damage is done, so why don't you show us the hardware and we can merrily fuck off."

"Later. I have a job to do."

"Yeah, we heard about it on the radio. Do you really think you can walk out of that one with all lives accounted for?"

"I'll find a way."

"Do you want us to tag along or something?"

"Definitely not." Said Wayne as the elevator came to a stop and the door slid open.

"This isn't the lobby." Said Sayid as he saw that the floor the elevator had opened to, a spacious hall illuminated by fluorescent ceiling panes with nothing in the way of people or furniture, just a few display cases where a few pitch black armored rubber suits hung, a large, complex computer console to one side and a massive tank-like, jet-black armored vehicle on a runway leading to an exit ramp on the far side.

"Why?" asked Priest as he followed Wayne out.

"You're the wrong man for this kind of job."

"Oh, don't give me that shit. I was a mercenary taking on men three times my size four at a time when I was your age. I was a soldier and a spook for twenty five years and I'm a bonafide creature of the night, and I don't need a goddamn Halloween costume to be one."

Wayne stopped in his tracks.

"What? I hurt your feelings, silver spoon?"

"Perhaps you do need a costume."

* * *

**Now**

"My, oh my…" said the Joker, "Here's silly ol' me without me ol' camera."

"Boss, what now?" asked one of the Joker's henchmen, nervously removing his hands from his gun's trigger.

"Now?" asked the Joker, "I don't know, I don't know. I suppose we could grab extra crispy and head on home."

"What about the hostages, Mister J?"

"Oh. Them. Well…"

Suddenly the lights went out, the rotunda was swarmed with absolute darkness save for a few rays of moonlight that came from the skylight above.

"Hey, what's the idea?" said the Joker.

* * *

**One Hour Later**

_New York City_

Lucy walked into the _office_ to see O'Brien and Shaun glued to the television set, watching a news bulletin with great interest.

"What are you all watching?"

"Gotham City News Network." Said O'Brien, "The Joker took most of the city government hostage and tried to trap the Batman and kill him."

"Who's the Joker?"

"SHHHHH!"

Lucy sat down on the couch between the two as they leaned forward to listen more clearly, she adjust her position a couple of times to be a little closer toward Shaun, and smiled awkwardly when Shaun took notice of that and moved away to allow her more room.

On the television, a reporter was interviewing one of the hostages.

_"And what happened after the lights went out?"_

_"All hell broke loose! Within two seconds I could hear people getting clobbered and someone telling us to run for the door. We were running blind for a while, tripping over each other buy when the lights came out we made it out."_

_"Did you look behind?"_

_"Uh-huh. The guards that had us at gunpoint were knocked out and there was another bunch fighting with the Batmans."_

_"So you're saying that Batman who was shot earlier and set on fire got up and continued fighting?"_

_"I wish that was it. There was another Batman too, he was taller."_

_"You were saying there were in this case more than one Batman working together?"_

_"Yeah. Taller Batman was beating on the Joker's men and taking their guns away, but the other one? He was a psycho, he's a psycho even by Batman standards, he was literally throwing people against walls, punch that one woman too in the stomach. Oh good, it was horrible! It made me sick just to watch it._

_"When taller Batman was done beating the others he turned his attention to the Joker, the shorter Batman broke both his arms and was about to kill him. The taller Batman pulled him off and the two got into a little yelling match, taller Batman punched shorter Batman to the ground and that was when the SWAT team pulled me out."_

The image on the television changed to that of the anchorman.

_"Thank you, Victoria. A representative of the Gotham City Police Department has informed us that all twenty perpetrators have been apprehended, including former Arkham Asylum psychologist Dr. Harleen Quinzel as well as the Joker, who has indeed sustained dehabilitaing injuries. All hostages were freed, the only casualty is of course Police Comissioner Jack Grogan, who was killed under as yet unclear circumstances. Comissioner Grogan has been recently brought up on charges of corruption and cooperation with organized crime. Police Captain James Gordon is expected to be appointed as his replacement. However, the biggest question of the night is who is this second Batman? And could this be an indicative to the validity of long-standing theories that the Batman may be a movement rather than one man..."_

* * *

_Gotham City_

"I can't believe you!" barked Wayne, pacing about the sub-level deep beneath the Wayne Enterprise building with his cowl and cape removed, as Priest sat rubbing Alcohol into the charred part of his lower-face.

"Hey, everybody made it out alive, haven't they?" asked Priest.

"Everybody except Grogan."

"Grogan is bent. I once dropped him a bribe back when he was a measly Captain. And all the scumbags are behind bars."

"You shattered a woman's ribs."

"What? The chick with the Uzi? I shattered ALL her ribs."

"You shattered five."

"Oh, that's a relief."

"You broke the Joker's arms."

"Don't worry about him, he'll be back on the street killing people before you know it."

"Is this some kind of joke to you?"

"If I was going to joke I'd make a crack about clowns and Volx Wagons…"

A distance away, Sayid with a tall black man in a tweed suit by a worktable with a dozen or so complex yet miniature devices spread on black sheet.

"…Are they alright over there?"

"Don't worry about them, Mister Fox. Priest has a certain effect on people," said Sayid, "He once pushed a superior of ours to shooting him in the neck."

"If you say so." Said Lucious Fox as he pointed at one of the devices with his pen and procedded to explain the devices capacities.

"Look, man. I'm sorry." Said Priest as he got up with the lower half his face bandaged and put on his coat, "I'm sorry I went too far with the clown, you'll forgive me if I took my attempted living cremation a little too seriously."

"Why didn't you stop them?"

"I'm weird that way, and Sayid was taking his time cutting the power."

Wayne sighed as he started removing his armor.

"Alright… I suppose I should thank you for not backing out."

"So go ahead."

"I'm not going to thank you. Are you going to be…?"

"Okay? Is that actual concern?"

"Are you?"

"Yes. I've been hurt much worse; this'll take a day to heal." Said Priest as he walked away, "Sayid, we done?"

"Yes we are." Said Sayid as he picked up a thin metal briefcase and shook hands with Fox.

"Good, let'sget back to New York."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:** Mina visits her old fiend and comrade Lord Orlando and makes her a proposition.


	31. Immortal

**A dying vampire. A gender-shifting warrior. A pirate captain. A former maid with a new tattoo. An Intelligence director.**

**What do they have in common?**

* * *

**Now**

_Royale-les-Eaux, France_

"Bugger."

The Englishman ran his hands through his thick brown hair and leaned back in his chair as he saw what the dice had landed on.

"Easy Eight. I'm sorry, my Lord." Said the croupier.

"It's alright, Henri." Said the Lord as he picked his cot off the shoulders of a young woman nearby who was only too glad to be rid of it once she'd seen the lord loose all his earnings.

The lord walked away from the table and across the floor of Casino Royale, making a beeline for the bar, when suddenly a particular shade of auburn caught his attention, it was a familiar shade he was fond of and had not seen in a few years, and it adorned the hair surrounding a familiar face.

"Willy?" asked the lord as he stopped dead in his track.

"For goodness sake, Lando. Don't call me that, you know I don't like it."

A wide smile spread across Lord Orlando's face as he turned around and pulled Mina into an embrace followed with a kiss on each cheek, before he wrapped her arms around her, picked her up and spun her around.

"Orlando…" said Mina, trying to hold back laughter, "People are looking."

"Oh, let them. I just lost my shirt at the tables, have been for the past week."

"Well…" said Mina as her boots touched the ground, "Alright then."

"And look! You're a redhead again! I never liked you as a Blond, I'm glad you no longer walk that dreadful path."

"And look! You're a man again."

"Yeah, I know." Said Orlando with a chuckle, "It's been an odd year, I was a woman a few months ago, became a man over night and remained so for a week and then changed back. I'm a man again as of last week."

"Shame, I was looking forward to the company of Lady Orlando."

"I'm sure Lady Orlando would have been just as eager, but alas, you'll have to settle for me. So what brings you to France, Will, business or pleasure?"

"I'm here just to see you actually."

"Oh?"

* * *

_San Francisco, California_

"…And we're done."

Jenny got up from the bench she was laying on face down, holding the sheet close to her chest, then put on her blouse as the tattoo artist turned away to clean her instruments.

Jenny looked over her shoulder with her back t the mirror, to look upon the newly inked tattoo on her left shoulder blade, one of a bleeding rose with a contorted black stem.

"You like?" asked the artist, a heavyset woman of forty and a pierced nose.

"Yes, it's brilliant." Said Jenny as she put her jacket on and dropped what money she owed on the counter.

Outside, Barbossa was waiting. He leaned against a wall watching passersby, young lovers walking hand-in-hand without a care in the world, oblivious to an oncoming end of the world. He was in his mind making guesses on how many of them would get to bring someone else into the world, and of those how many would get to see their first steps.

"Hector…"

"Oh, all done, pet?"

"Yes. D'ya feel like getting some lunch?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Fish and chips?"

"You've read my mind." Said Barbossa as the two walked side by side down the street, "You know, Jenny, you don't need a tattoo. You're perfect the way you are."

"You silver-tongued demon, you. It'd be easier if the fountain didn't burn the blasted thing every time we take a dip."

"But why do it?"

"I've had it since before we met. I do it so that I don't forget where I had come from."

"And why would you want to remember such a place?"

"So that I never turn a blind eye."

The pair walked silently for a few moments before Jenny said,

"Hector, do you ever think about growing old together?"

"It's all I want."

"I'm not talking about us staying forever; I'm talking about actually getting old. I'm talking about my hair turning gray, my arse tripling in size and my breasts sagging."

"Hmmm. Your arse tripling in size, eh? That does sound tempting."

"I'm serious."

"What? You want to stop using the fountain?"

"No, maybe. I'm not sure. I just don't know If I want to be at sea forever. I love it out there, Hector, I love it as much as you do. Back when I was scrubbing floors in Cornwall, being stowed away on a pirate ship was all I could dream of.

"It would be nice to take a break of it all, I feel like I might be missing out on something."

"Alright."

"What?"

"In a year or two from now, if and when the League is done for…. We'll leave the Pearl in Costas' command; spend as much time on land as you want, no fountain or anything, for as long as you want."

"Even if as long as I want means fifty, sixty years?"

"As long as you want, love."

"Wow. I'm not really sure that's what I want Hector, I'm definitely not going to want to do it in a year or two. But that you'd give it all up for me is…"

Jenny was at a loss of words.

"Oy," said Barbossa, looking into Jenny's blue eyes lovingly as they stood outside a fish and chips restaurant,

"If it gets you to stop acting like a girl, I'm mostly doing it because I really want to meet gray-haired, triple-arsed, sagged-breasted Jenny Diver."

Jenny laughed and wrapped her arms around Barbossa's neck as he kissed her.

"Alright," said Jenny as their lips parted, "Our fish and chips await us."

"After you, Madam Mate."

* * *

_Royale-les-Eaux, France_

Mina wrapped her scarf tight around her neck as she strolled with Orlando alongside the Royale River.

"Did you not bring Mindy?" asked Orlando.

"Mindy?"

"Mindy. Yes, Mindy, your girlfriend."

"It's Mandy, with an A. No, I didn't even tell her that I was coming here."

"I'm not the authority on being responsible, but isn't that a mite tardy, abandoning your post?"

"I suppose. But they can't fire me, can they?"

"Is everything alright between you two?"

Mina sighed.

"You know how being in a relationship with a mortal can be."

"Oh, do I. Being in any form of relationship with a mortal is a terrible ordeal."

"That's a bit harsh."

"You misunderstand; it's nothing about the mortals. You know me Mina; I'm ad addict for company. And just as fascinating and pleasurable companions mortals are, they all end up passing away. I'm three thousand, two-hundred and sixty-eight years old. You're not even a century and a half. That's why I cherish what few immortal friends I have; they're the only ones that'll stick around."

"Truer words have never been spoken. Do you keep up with all the others?"

"I haven't seen Jack Sparrow since the summer of love. God, the two of us got into such amazing larks that year. I met with Dorian a few years ago while he was attending some kind of convention in Italy. We chin-wagged and he tried to get me to renounce my decadent ways. It was funny, really."

"Ra's Al Ghul is dead." Said Mina.

"Is he? I always thought he was bonkers, so it's not a great loss. What about you?"

"Out of the loop, I'm afraid. Work has been murder, I just want to retire."

"Well, why don't you?"

Mina looked aside at Orlando before laughing and slapping him on the shoulder.

"Silly, I know."

"As of last week I am physically younger than Mandy. I pointed it out that in a few years she'll be the decidedly older one, I obviously meant it as a joke; she's been upset ever since."

"Ah. I will no doubt think myself a tool for saying this, months or years from now when I am a lady once more, but being a woman does involve an upper limit of sense sometimes."

* * *

_New York City_

"Go away." Priest said with a raspy voice, and then close his eyes tight and bobbed his head down as he emptied his stomach into the toilet.

"Priest..." Said Lucy as she stood in the doorway.

"Go." Said Priest as he put down the seat and flushed, then pushed himself up, "Show's over."

"Priest, I think you should tell them."

"Why?"

"Look, if this is contagious, they deserve to know."

"It's not. I've had it for eight years and I never passed it to anyone."

"Will you at least tell me what it is?"

"You know those diseases you get better from?"

"Yes."

"What about those incurable ones there's an experimental drug for?"

"Sure."

"Well, it's neither one of those." Said Priest as he stood in front of the sink and splashed cold water on his face.

"Is it cancer?"

"There's no name for it. It afflicts vampires alone… Very rare."

"So what's going to happen to you?"

"I don't know." Said Priest as he dried his face, "I get these episodes sometimes, they used to be far apart but they're more frequent these days."

"What kind of episodes?"

"Unholy migraines, feel like my brain is getting blow-torched. That time in Metropolis, when you did your little thing where everybody freaked out, only it took me a long time to recover. You triggered one of those episodes that day. Those episodes are the only constant; the other symptoms are more erratic."

"Like what?"

"Mostly, I feel like choking people when I'm bombarded with questions about my health." Answered Priest as he brushed past her as he got out

"Do you know what to do?" asked Mona as she handed him a small silver case the size of a lunchbox.

"Yeah, bug McNeil's bus."

"Are you going to screw this up?"

"Sure, if that's what you want."

"I'm not laughing. Don't forget to put on your suit."

* * *

_Royale-les-Eaux, France_

"Why are you here, Mina?" asked Orlando as he stood in his lofty penthouse, pouring a pair of drinks in crystal cups.

"Sorry, that sounded a bit rude. It's not that I don't enjoy the visit, it's that I can't fool myself thinking this is a social call anymore."

Mina stood before a painting that adorned one of the walls, examining ever square centimeter of it.

"It's alright; I would have done it a lot sooner if I were you. I'm here to offer you a job."

"What, seriously?"

Orlando laughed.

"Mina, you of all people should know how I feel about ever working for the League again, I-"

"This has nothing to do with the League. I'm here on my own business."

"…What?"

"I need you, Orlando."

"For what?"

"There is a war coming."

"With who, the opposition? They wouldn't dare."

"They would. And they will. And I'm not talking about a war with the opposition."

"Hang on, what are you talking about? In exactly what capacity are you here to enlist me?"

"I need a warrior, Orlando. A true warrior, to provide wise council."

"And I would not be working for the League, you say?"

"Exactly."

"Mina… Exactly who are you going to war against?"

Mina turned around toward Orlando and took one of the glasses from his hand.

"I can't tell you who, not before I know you're in."

"My warring days are over."

"No warrior's warring days are ever truly over. Just think about it for a few days, mull it over with a bottle of Scotch."

"I'm all out of Scotch."

With a smile, Mina took a bottle of MacCutcheon scotch out of her purse and handed it over to Orlando, who received it with wide eyes as he saw the year printed on the label.

"Oh, god's balls. 1924. This Scotch is so brilliant that if Admiral Anderson MacCutcheon himself asked for a bottle of this stuff he'd be denied. But this doesn't change my decision."

"Consider it a gift, then." Said Mina as she headed for the door.

"You're leaving already?"

"Definitely not. I didn't turn into a bat to fly across an ocean in three hours just to stay for less than a day. I'll meet you in the hotel lobby later on; we'll have diner and chin-wag."

"It's a date, then."

"Oh, Orlando." Said Mina as she stopped by the door, "Are there any other of us immortals you keep up with?"

"A few, I don't think you've met any of them."

"Are you familiar with a vampire known as Priest?"

"Jude Priest? Definitely. Yes yes, we met in 1899, at the Moulin Rouge. I didn't know what he was back then, neither did he myself. We met again during the Second World War during my stint with the RAF, he claimed at the time to be working for some secret branch of the American government. I still see now and then. Why the interest?"

"I've had a few dealings with him, nothing of much impotance. I'll see you tonight, Lando."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter**

The city of New York give Senator Regan MacNeil a warm welcome, but among them are six who have an agenda of their own.


	32. Meet Regan McNeil

**Now**

_New York City_

_"Yo, guys. Do you read me?"_

Robert Barnes looked aside to Sayid who grinned smugly at him as they sat in the back of a van, before complex surveillance equipment.

Barnes sighed in frustration as Sayid flicked a switch on the console before him.

"Loud and clear, Mister Rose." Said Sayid into a mike, "Give each of the bugs you planted three taps to c-."

_"Okay."_

"How did the son of a bitch slip past the secret service detail and get into that bus?"

"It could be the creature of the night thing, it could be the CIA training, either way, you have to… What's the expression you Americans use? Ant up?" asked Sayid as he held his hand open.

"Ante. The expression is ante up." Said Barnes as he pressed a twenty dollar bill into Sayid's palm. The Iraqi gave the former spy a wink as he placed the bill in his shirt pocket and got out of the seat, allowing Barnes to sit in his place while a series of three taps were heard on one of the speakers every now and then.

"So, how is life in the majors?" asked Barnes, "What's it like to be a minuteman?"

"Not bad, I suppose. There is less confrontational operations than I wagered and for that I am relieved. What about you?"

"I'm about to spend the next couple of weeks following McNeil on the campaign trail, bugging her hotel rooms and keeping my watchful eye on her. I'll be fine as long as I manage to stay awake."

"Do you know what happened to the rest of the Cairo cell?"

"Almasry has completely dropped off the radar, but the Saudi probably has an eye on him."

"What about Aladdin?"

"He's been getting treatment from one of Nemo's former crewmen, an ex-psychotherapist who was lost his license for having sex with his patient, a female patient, that is. Apparently, he's doing a little better. Raimus had them installed in Florida."

"And Aisha?"

"Last I heard she was in Ankara. I don't want to think what she's doing there."

_"Boys?"_ came Priest's voice over the speaker.

"Everything checks out, Mr. Rose. Head on to the hotel, we'll have a cold bear waiting for you."

* * *

"Oh, god. Not today." Muttered Mona to herself as she turned away and retreated through the crowd, away from the man of forty in a ceremonial police uniform.

Senator McNeil's voice drowned in the tidal wave of applause and cheers, she had to pause till the noise quieted down.

"Freedom is never granted. It is earned by each generation… in the face of tyranny, cruelty, oppression, extremism …"

"Mona?" asked Lucy as she caught up with Mona, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just saw a cop."

"You saw a cop?" asked Lucy as she looked back, "I see no less than twenty men in uniform."

"This was one who knew me for a few years."

"You saw a cop who knew you for a few years," asked Lucy, "Or did you see a cop whom you've loved for a few years."

"Goddamn it, Lucy!" barked Mona, electing the brief attention of a few surrounding her before all eyes returned to the senator's passionate speech.

"Would you stop doing that? Do you know how annoying it is to be around someone who reads you like a book all the time."

"I'm not reading you, okay." Said Lucy loudly, "But sister, right now you're not a book, you're like a parade float with blinking lights and bag pipes. I can't help but knowing what you're feeling."

Mona scratched her forehead.

"I… Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you."

"It's okay, let's sit down."

The two women sat down as the crowd cheered once more,

"give youth a future and old age security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfill their promise; they never will. The corrupt free themselves, but they enslave the people! Now, let us fight to fulfill that promise! Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where hope prevails and..."

"If I was an American, I would vote for her." Said Lucy.

"If I wasn't a fugitive criminal, I'd vote for her too. Too bad she's in the bed with the devil."

"Yes. So, who is your boyfriend?"

Mona sighed.

"Mona, you can tell me or I can ask Priest."

"Priest doesn't know."

"Perhaps, but he will have fun with you over this."

"He… When we met, I was working for a woman who told me to kill him. He was a nice guy, didn't deserve to die, so I didn't kill him. A couple of years later, we got caught up in a gang war, we almost had sex at one point, and then I got shot and went into a coma. As soon as I was out of it I was trialed and sent to prison. And then one day, Nemo and Priest came and broke me out."

"That's it?" asked Lucy, smiling unwillingly and dropping a hand over Mona's shoulder, "You and your boyfriend haven't even slept together!"

"He's not my boyfriend, we never went out on a date; he never bought me flowers or anything. The closest thing we had to a date was me providing him with cover fire."

"What's his name?"

"Payne. Max. Well, Max Payne."

"No, really. Wait… That IS his name! Ha! Your boyfriend's name is Max Payne!"

"Yeah, well, my grandma wasn't a war criminal."

Lucy's smile disappeared and she said, "Hey, that's a cheap shot."

"…Yeah, it was. Sorry."

"….Byones."

"You what?"

"Byones. You know, forget about it."

"The word is bygones, sweetie. Now, how are we going to do this?"

* * *

**Later**

Mona wore large rimmed sunglasses and she sat in the lobby of the Dolphin hotel, sipping an espresso. Priest sat on the bench right next to her, solving a crossword puzzle. Five floors above both, Lucy stood pacing in a corridor on the fifth floor.

Outside, Shaun stood by a restaurant across the street from the hotel, watching the traffic. Inside, O'Brien and Sayid stood a distance away from the security office, with the first in a staff uniform, and his features changed into a different face entirely.

Priest's cell phone vibrated once. He casually picked it up and read the text message received before setting it down, just as casually.

"Barnes says she's incoming in three minutes." He muttered without looking at Mona and read the next clue.

"Alright, Ali and Charlie, you're up." Said Mona quietly.

Hearing her over the receivers in their ears, _Charlie_ and _Ali_ as O'Brien and Sayid's codenames were went on to fulfill their orders.

Sayid remained in place as O'Brien went into the security office, he kept a watchful eye on the door until he saw three security men coming out.

Once the security men were away, Sayid stepped into a nook, took off his jacket and turned it inside out so that it took on the appearance of a staff jacket. He put the jacket on and headed into the security office where O'Brien had already made himself comfortable in a leather chair.

"I hope you're in place because MacNeil's ride just pulled up outside." Said Mona, still sitting in the lobby. Priest watched out the corner of his eye as Senator MacNeil entered through the revolving door moments later, surrounded by a barrage of secret service men. A few of the senator's admirers rushed to meet her but were only granted a gentle smile and a wave as the secret servicemen kept them at bay.

"Alright, get ready. She just got into elevator no. 3."

In the security office, Sayid tapped on a keyboard until a menu appeared that was for controlling the elevators.

"Ali, Make it stop on the fifth floor. Anna, she's coming in on no. 3."

Sayid pressed a few keys more and spoke, "Done."

Back in the lobby, Priest got up and tossed his newspaper in a trashcan.

"Are you sure getting a glimpse of McNeil is going to be enough for her to get a read?"

"She probably wouldn't have a read anyway, but better take any chance we get."

"What did you found out from her staff?"

"Not much. It's possible McNeil's the only one who knows about her own connection with the League."

On the fifth floor, Lucy waited by the third elevator. In a few moments, she looked into it as it opened and put on a shy smile. She focused her senses on the woman inside, reading her psyche for any valuable knowledge.

"Ar-" said Lucy before she was cut off by an agent raising his hand and saying,

"I'm sorry, ma'am. You'll have to wait for the next elevator."

"Oh, it's alright, Agent Pierce." Said McNeil with another of her captivating smiles, "You can come in."

The agent stepped aside allowing Lucy in. Lucy awkwardly walked in and stood in the corner facing the door, not expecting this opportunity.

"Going up?" asked McNeil.

"Yes. The 13th floor."

"Ah, you mean the 14th." Said McNeil as Agent Pierce pressed the button.

"Yes, that's what I meant."

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Said Lucy, trying to brush aside the slight nausea she was feeling at the moment.

"Are you from out of town?" asked McNeil, and then asking in German, _"You're from Düsseldorf, aren't you? I recognize the accent."_

Lucy laughed nervously, "Yes. Yes I am."

"So, what brings you to the big apple, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I'm… I'm visiting a friend."

Lucy's heart was racing as she tried to penetrate McNeil's psyche. Reading both agents took two seconds and was very easy, but the senator was different matter. She didn't have any kind of block or barrier she was familiar with, certainly not one similar to Forrest Gump's. But it was like what she was looking for was surrounded by a wall of thick, dark smoke and attempting to penetrate it felt like drowning in tar.

The elevator pinged as it reached the 14th floor. Lucy struggled to smile and nod as she walked out of the elevator.

"Well," said McNeil as the doors were closing, "Enjoy your visit."

The doors closed and she heard the elevator as it rose. It was Lucy cue to collapse.

* * *

**Evening**

Mona looked between Priest, Sayid, Shaun and O'Brien as each seemed to be contemplating what she had just said. After nearly two minutes of silence, Mona spoke.

"Well, what do you think?"

"You said that Lucy said she saw a vision telling her that the secret to topple Senator McNeil is in Georgetown?" asked Sayid.

"Yeah."

"Are you… Should we be even considering this kind of thing? We just spent the afternoon planting bugs, we're supposed to be starting surveillance."

"It is a bit nutty." Said Shaun.

"I dunno, guys. How often does someone get a vision, honestly?" asked O'Brien.

"I'm not sure I ever heard her saying anything about her getting vision. I presumed that was outside the scope of her abilities."

"Well, she had one this afternoon and I doubt that she's lying."

"I'll take her." Said Priest, still looking quite pensive as he sat in the corner, sipping from an odorous glass of fish blood.

"What?"

"This thing has supernatural written all over it. I'm no Alestir Crowley, but I know a thing or two on the subject. I can protect Lucy while she does what she has to do, and I can make sure she gets back safe. The four of you can hold the fort till we get back, which I can't imagine will take more than a few days."

"Or maybe, you could _not_ go." Said Mona.

"I don't care either way. Georgetown is boring and I would much rather stick around here, but Lucy has made up her mind."

"How do you know that?" asked Sayid.

"Because she's just slipped out. I heard her do so, and I bet she's heading to her and Mona's apartment to pack a bag. Eel, go tell her to come back up."

O'Brien was hesitant at first, but obliged when Mona gave him a nod.

"And why can't we just talk her out of it?" asked Shaun.

"You could try, Shaun, but I know when someone, a woman in particular has made up their mind on something. Believe me, she'll head out to Georgetown as soon as she finds the coast clear, and with those powers of hers, I think she'll figure out pretty fast.

"Aside from shooting her in the knee, I doubt there's much any of us can do to stop her."

Mona sighed, then turned to Sayid and asked,

"Are we all set?"

"Yes. For the record, I'm against this."

"Noted. Priest, take her to Georgetown, take a good look at whatever it is he's after but don't take your time. And pack some heat, enough for both of you."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter:**

Lucy explains a thing or two about her powers when she and Priest head on a mission to delve through the labyrinths of the supernatural and dig up the hideus skeletons of McNeil's past.


	33. Brownstone

**Now**

_Pittsburg, Pennsylvania_

"Beluga?" asked Priest, pouring from a bottle of vodka he had taken out of his bag into a small plastic cup.

"No thanks." Said Lucy, looking out the train's window, "Isn't –"

"Lucy, if you say 'Isn't it too early to be drinking' then as sure as my father once tore my arm off, I will kill you."

Lucy didn't continue and only looked at her feet nervously.

"What are we going to do once we get to Georgetown?"

"I don't know yet."

"Well, that's a relief."

"When I said that I don't know yet, I meant I'll know when I'm there. It's complicated."

"Simplify it for me."

"I couldn't."

"Try."

"You'd either disbelieve me or think it doesn't make sense."

"Honeybee, it's about time you dropped the madam Xanadu act and filled me in."

"What are you talking about?"

"I've been around psychics before, I used to hunt and recruit them to work for the government. None of them fit your profile."

"Parapsychology is not an exact science."

"That may be, but Lucy, I know you're jerking my chain. Why are we going to Georgetown?"

"Because, um," said Lucy with a stammer, staring at her feet, "an angel told me to do so."

"Hmm."

Priest gulped the contents of his plastic cup and crushed it before tossing it aside and reclining in his seat.

"Go on."

"Sometimes when I faint because of psychic influence, I find myself in an alternate dimension."

"What kind?"

"It's a place I used to imagine as a little girl, a world of diamond-encrusted skies and, um, lollipop trees."

"You've got to be kidding me."

"I have no idea if I created it or if I only tapped into it, but I think it's my perception of limbo."

"Alright. So, you tried to read McNeil but didn't manage it because of whatever barrier she has, trying it made you sick and you passed out. You were transferred to Limbo and that's where you met the angel."

"Right."

"What did it look like?"

"Like a man. Tall, pale, he had green eyes and red hair. He wore an old fashioned dinner suit. But he had massive wings, black as tar."

"Right. So… what exactly did the angel say? And how did he say it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did he speak Latin, Hebrew or was it a kind of language you were unfamiliar with yet understood."

"He spoke English, with a British accent…. Very upper class."

"Wow, I can't believe you thought I'd find this tale nonsensical." Said Priest sarcastically.

"If you don't want to listen, that's fine by me."

"No, we've gone too far." Said Priest, holding his interlocked fists to his chin as he leaned forward, "Pray continue."

"He just said that it was best that I never read McNeil and said that if I wanted knowledge, then I had to go to Georgetown. He said that, and then had a look at his pocket watch and said it was time to go."

Priest sighed as he took off his shoes and lay on the seat in the train's cabin, saying,

"I don't like Georgetown. There's nothing in Georgetown but politicians and … people who live in Georgetown. Point is; it's boring. For both our sakes, I hope your angel is waiting for us at the train station."

* * *

_Georgetown, Washington_

"So… Mister and Missus Totenkopf?" asked Priest, adjusting his necktie as he and Lucy walked up the sidewalk.

"What are you talking about?"

"Our cover, we're going to meet the realtor. Do you want to pretend to be a married German couple or what?"

"Why can't we just use the aliases Al-Sheikh told us to use?"

"Sure, it would just be a little more convincing if we pretended to be married out-of-towners."

"Can you pretend to be interested in the house and only brought me along as a friend?"

"Alright, if that's what you want."

"Thank you."

"Mona always pretended to be my wife when we were undercover," muttered Priest, "And I already made the appointment under those names, but what the hell."

Lucy rolled her eyes and put on a fake smile as they approached the realtor, a woman of her forties standing by the brownstone townhouse and looking through the top floor windows. She took notice of them and so put on a fake smile of her own, flicked her cigarette onto the street and extended a hand.

"Hi, I'm Eve Adams." Said the realtor, "You must be the Tawten-Copfs, am I pronouncing it right?"

"It's Toe-ten-cough, actually." Said Priest, shaking her hand, "I'm Frank Rose, this is my friend Anna."

"But I have an appointment with-"

"Mister and Missus Rutger Totenkopf, I know. It's just a false name I use to avoid unwanted attention. I hope that's alright."

"Oh, I understand. Would you like to come inside?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

"This house was built in 1899, commissioned by an English Lord a few years earlier. The lord decided not to move in and instead sold it to a local Judge." Explained the realtor, walking with Priest and Lucy in toe, through the spacious foyer, almost completely stripped of all furniture save for a clock or a mirror here or there.

"The living room is over there, the kitchen is on the other side of that wall. There are three more floors above, one master bedroom and four other smaller rooms. You can covert any to an office or gym or whatever it is you have in mind."

The realtor stopped and tuned around, "I hope you don't mind me asking, but what it is you do, Mister Rose?"

"I'm a graphic novelist." Said Priest, taking off his hat and coat and hanging them on a rack.

"What, you mean like comic books?" asked the realtor with a nervous cackle, "Interesting, is there much money in that? I mean this place isn't cheap."

"No, it's not really enough to make someone very affluent. But a book I've written was made into a blockbuster movie, my royalties were very lucrative. Some other movies based upon my work are also in production. You know that movie on the future of Britain released last year?"

"Yes, I remember it! I thought it was gripping, very bleak."

"Actually, the filmmakers barely touched on the topics the original work discussed, and they kind of missed the point. But it made me rich, so I can't really complain."

The realtor chuckled.

"Well, Mister Rose, I think this is the house for you. It has history and character. And would you like to know who one of the previous tenants was?"

"Who?" asked Priest, pretending not to know.

"Christine MacNeil. You know, the movie actress?"

"Yeah, from that movie! Alice-"

"Alice Doesn't live here Anymore!"

"Ah, she was brilliant. But wait, that means..!"

"Yes, this used to be the home of Senator McNeil."

"Whoa! **What** are the **chances**?!" Priest exclaimed, "Anna and I were talking about her on the way here. Extraordinary woman, she is."

"I know, isn't she great? I think she's just what America needs. Don't you?"

"Not unless I've turned Republican in my sleep! Ha ha ha! Oh, can we have a look upstairs?"

* * *

"….And this brings us to the end of out tour." Said Eve Adams, standing by the stairs on the top floor, facing Priest and Lucy, "You've seen every room in the house. I don't have to tell you this is a much sought-after part of town, and a building like this is very much in demand.

"So, what do you say, Mister Rose?"

"Well, Anna," Priest mumbled, "What do you think?"

Lucy seemed to be in her own thoughts, and didn't respond for a second or two before looking up to Adams and asking,

"Has there ever been damage to this property we should know about?"

Adams didn't seem to appreciate the question; she chuckled nervously as she adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses and said,

"Yes, well, there has been some extremely minor water damage over the years… And, well, there was a fire back in the mid-nineties. I understand someone left the gas turned on. No one was in at the time, no one was hurt, but the fire ran through the whole house. However, and this should be a testament to the perfectly sound architecture of this house, the building itself was largely intact."

"Ah, well," Priest mumbled as he walked down the stairs and, "It is a beautiful house, I'll need to give this some thought. Don't worry; my people will call your people."

* * *

"What was that all about?" asked Priest as he and Lucy got into the back of a cab, "Take us to the Admiral Hotel."

"I felt… nothing."

"How's that possible." Asked Priest, "And remind me what was it you were expected to hear or see?"

Lucy raised a hand to rub her eyes in exhaustion, mumbling in German,

_"Houses have memories, and those rarely just go away. I tried to tap into it, but-"_

_"Wait, have you ever done something like this before?"_

_"The apartment where Shaun and Eel live used to be the home of a man called Kramer, and a filmmaker's before that, mine and Mona's was once the home of a singer called Susan Alexander. Yes, I have done this before. What I was saying is that this house… It doesn't have any memory at all. Tabula Rasa."_

_"How is it possible? Does it have anything to do with that fire she talked about?"_

_"A mundane fire might cleanse a house of its memory, but I think its magic, someone purified that house of all that it ever was, the fire may have been part of the cleansing ritual, but it was one powerful enough that this house has lost its power to accumulate memory._

_"By the way, reading the realtor, I think that this house has been on the market on and off for several years. I think its tenants find themselves repulsed by it, after a while, unable to make a history in it."_

_"I understand. So, whatever happened when the senator lived in that house during the seventies must have been washed away by the League, as though it never happened. Question is, how can we find out what it was?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"Well, have a vision, then."_

_"I can't do it on demand; it's not like turning my head to the left and coughing. The Angel told me to come here, so we came. We have to think of something else, we shouldn't count on me receiving another vision, and…… Tell him to go back. _Take us back to where we came from._"_

"Ma'am?" asked the driver.

"Do it." Said Priest, then lowered his voice and asked, "Why are we going back? What happened?"

"I… I saw something."

The two were silent as the driver circled around the block and stopped in front of McNeil's one-time residence.

"Wait here, keep the meter running." Priest ordered the river as he got out of the car after Lucy who had bolted out in a hurry.

When Priest caught up to her, having some trouble with remaining in the shadow of his trilby hat, she was kneeling b a set off stairs, one hand resting on a wall.

"What did you see, Lucy?"

"I saw a ghost."

"Oh, yeah? What did it look like?"

"A man in a cassock. Standing on the street corner, looking at me."

"…What, you've never seen a priest before?"

"His neck was broken, and his eyes were torn out."

"Oh. Ghost it is, then. But what are you doing now?"

"Something about this place… The fire was never here."

"What, these steps? What if they weren't? What are you listening to?"

Lucy took a deep breath and got up, taking her hand off the wall and turning to Priest she asked,

"What kind of name is Karras?"

* * *

R&R

**Next Chapter**

Psychic sleuth Lucy Wagner and her trusty psychic Judas investigate the mystery surrounding the deaths of Fathers Karas and Merrin.


	34. Brimstone

**Now**

_New York City_

_"Mona, how's life in the big apple? How's Shaun?"_

Mona smiled tiredly as she looked into the computer screen, to see Lucy's image drinking a cup of coffee.

"It's just me, Sayid and Shaun, who is fine. Where's Priest?"

_"He's… busy. Why, you miss him?"_

"You know how it is, you spend nine months with a guy who keeps staring at your ass and you get used to it. Al-Sheikh says hi."

_"You've talked to him?"_

"Yeah, he pulled O'Brien to go undercover as Gump again. He wasn't pleased to know where you were, but didn't tell us to pull the plug either.

"I'm sending the Intel right now." Said Mona, pressing a few buttons on the keyboard, "There weren't many called Father Karras. But the one I guess is in your interest is Damien George Karras, Jesuit Priest with a degree in psychology, died a suicide in 1973, the year McNeil moved away.

"There's another man of the cloth you may want to look into; Father Lancaster Montgomery Merrin, also a Jesuit, died from a heart attack on the exact same night as Karras. It might be a coincidence, but you should look into it."

_"I'll do that. Where did they die?"_

"Nowhere near McNeil at the time, but if this is a cover up, then that is to be expected."

_"Right. How are the others, how is surveillance going?"_

"We've set up rotating two-man shifts. Shaun and I take two hours shifts for twelve hours and then Eel and Sayid take over. All is quiet in the big apple."

_"Did Barnes get in touch?"_

"Couple of times, he's been following McNeil, but nothing so far."

_"Alright, then. Places to go, people to meet. I hope to back by Friday."_

* * *

_Georgetown, Washington_

Priest staggered out of the bathroom, looking tired and glum, wiping his mouth with a towel.

"Who the hell were you talking to?" asked Priest in a raspy voice.

"I was talking to Mona." Said Lucy, shutting the laptop on the table.

"Are you okay?"

"No, I'm dying." Priest said and tossed the towel aside. Lucy noticed that it was covered with thick crimson.

"You're vomiting blood."

"Yeah." Said Priest as he sat down, "I'm trying not to think about it. Please tell me you ordered coffee."

"I ordered us some coffee." Said Lucy as she headed to the other side of the hotel room where a cart with a fresh pot of coffee and a few mugs on top of it. Lucy poured into two mugs and brought them over, handing Priest one and placing one beside her on the table. She sat down and watched as Priest took a sip and seemed to liven up a bit, then said in his usual voice as if nothing was wrong,

"So, what do we got?"

"McNeil moved to that house in early of Seventy-Three, shortly following her parents divorce. A few months later, she moved out, less than a month after Karras and Merrin died seemingly unrelated deaths. Thos are the facts." Said Lucy as she turned the laptop so he could see the reports.

"A little over twenty years later, the league has the house mystically cleansed, presumably shortly after Josephine recruited McNeil. They've been grooming her to be the first female president since then, they wanted her path to the presidency to be clear, and so erased all her skeletons out of existence. The question is; what happened in seventy-three in that house that would jeopardize her candidacy, and what does Karras have anything to do with it?"

"It was the seventies, man; people were getting into all kind of weird and kinky shit."

"There has to be more to it."

"Satanic rites, maybe?"

"Doesn't explain the priest."

"Heh, you'd be surprised. Look, I have a few friends in the occult intelligence community. I can give them a call."

"I though the government put out a contract on your head."

"That was forty years ago."

"I don't think there's a statute of limitation on treason. Also, you crippled a man who now runs the New York branch of the League."

"Killing several of your superior officers and then assist in uncovering war crimes committed by your government is hardly treason. The first is frowned upon, though. What leads do we have?"

"All Karras and Merrin's associates of the time are long gone, dead or missing."

"Good. We can go home."

"There is something we can do."

"And?"

"Well, it's a bit out of the box."

* * *

**Some weeks later**

_Caracas, Venezuela_

Kennedy Reynolds took a long look at the woman standing before her, she was of her late thirties, fair skinned, of average height and somewhat plump. She wore glasses with a black rectangular rim and a dark gray suit with high heeled shoes, her blond hair was raised in a bun and she held an expensive leather purse at her side.

Kennedy knew wealth all her life, and she recognized it in this woman, but that wasn't all. There was something else about her, she seemed like a woman adept to making things go her way. She's shown up less than three minutes ago at her hotel suite at the Hyatt and claiming she had an offer to make her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." asked Kennedy as she secured her robe around her waist.

"My name is Diana Burnwood." Said the woman in Received Pronunciation English, "I represent parties with use of a woman of your talents."

"A woman of my talents? The talent to make great guacamole or the talent for fashion coordination? What are you talking about?"

"We know that you're a slayer, Miss Reynolds."

Kennedy put an amused smile she had grown used to putting on, and said,

"Excuse me, a what?"

Burnwood smiled confidently, recognizing the attempt.

"May I come in?"

Kennedy hesitated, but knew refusal only meant corroborating what the Englishwoman suspected; she stepped aside and gestured in approval.

"Thanks." Said Diana as she walked in, "There's no use denying it, Miss Reynolds. We've already talked with your associates in Scotland."

"I don't have Scottish associates."

"Slayer central, is the name I believe your people call it. A compound set up in a castle in the highlands, dedicated to tracking and monitoring demonic events across the globe and neutralizing them as they become problematic.

"I've spoken with the people in charge, Miss Summers and Mister Harris. We've arrived at an agreement."

"Lady, I don't know who the hell-"

"They told me the codeword I needed to prove I had clearance. The codeword is 'Anyanaka'."

Kennedy sat down on luscious sofa and ushered for Diana to do the same.

"Alright, so you're legit. What do you want?"

"I represent Westenra and Stoker, a Maryland based securities service. We have a bit of situation that, as aforementioned, requires your talents. According to our agreement with your associates, we will provide funding in the amount of four million dollars to your operation in return for your services."

"What kind of situation?"

"There is a woman whom we believe is committing corporate espionage for one of our client companies." Said Diana as she took out an envelope out of her purse and handed it to Kennedy. Kennedy opened it, finding a few pictures inside of a young, attractive blond woman.

"This is her?"

"Yes. We need you to keep a close eye on her, and find out who her contacts are and report back to us."

"And why does this require my services?"

"Because, Miss Reynolds, this woman in a vampire."

* * *

**Now**

_Georgetown, Washington_

"I heard a few a few silly ideas in my time." Priest mused as he dragged bloodied fingers on the brownstone wall, drawing a semi circle of crimson on the wall of the ally behind the townhouse at an hour shy of dawn.

"If you have a better idea, let's hear it." Said Lucy, chewing a mouthful of salt and leaves as she sat on the ground in the lotus position, facing the semi circle.

"Hey, I'm just saying; I heard some dumb shit in my time. Are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"What are you worried about?"

"My blood. How do you know it'll work, what if it needs to be human blood, I mean regular human blood?"

"Hemoglobin is hemoglobin, Priest. I've done this before with chicken's blood and it worked."

"Alright, then." Said Priest as he stepped back and sat down on the footsteps, "What do I do?"

"I'm going to channel Karras' spirit; I'll speak in his voice. You will ask him all you need, just keep them short and simple. Try and start with a few easy ones like 'Where were you born?' or something. It'll make the spirit more cooperative."

"And how do I get it to go away?"

"Just tell _him_, and be gentle about it."

"Okay, that sounds easy enough."

"Good…." Said Lucy as she closed her eyes, "Now be quiet for a little while."

Priest did as she bade and remained silent for a few minutes, paying all his attention to Lucy as she closed her eyes and attempted to tap into the ethereal. He could hear as her breath wavered between quickening and slowing, she'd stopped chewing and swallowed the contents of her mouth.

Suddenly, her breath took an entirely different steady pace, and an inaudible throaty rumble did Priest hear. Priest was certain that Lucy had crossed the threshold.

"Lucy?" asked Priest in discomfort.

There was no answer; Lucy kept sitting in that serene posture, facing the wall with her eyes closed.

Priest's eyes narrowed, and through gritted teeth, Priest asked,

"Karras?"

Lucy drew a breath and the answered with a forlorn and deep voice, "Yes."

Priest got up from where he sat. The whole ordeal was unsavory to him, Priest knew and practiced a share of magic in his time and had seen his share of séances and black masses in the past, but he'd never gotten used to those encounters and they always left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Tell me your first name."

"Damien."

"In what year were you born?"

"1940."

"Where?"

"Long Island."

"And where did you die?"

"Here."

"How?"

"I fell. I crushed my neck."

"Karras…" started Priest as he crouched down next to Lucy, "Something bad happened here. Didn't it?"

"Yes."

"Something to a girl called Regan?"

"...Yes."

"What was it?"

"Something…unholy."

"Rrrright. Simple questions." Mumbled Priest as he ran a hand through his hair, "Who did it to her?"

"He."

"And who, pray tell, is he?"

"It was he."

"For fuck…. Was it Regan's mother?"

"No."

"Was it one of her relatives?"

"No."

"Was it one of Regan's mother's friends?"

"No."

"Was it a man?"

"No."

"So it was a woman?"

"No."

Priest's frustration started to grow with the last answer. He'd been on edge for the past couple of weeks, having lost his appetite for blood and growing worn from his months of insomnia. He stood up and turned away from Lucy's body.

"You knew Father Merrin?"

"I knew Father Merrin."

"He died on the same night you did, was it in this house?"

"Yes."

"How did he die?"

"Heart attack."

"You said that you fell to your death. Was it by accident?"

"It was my own doing."

"What were the two of you doing there?"

"We were trying to flush it out."

"Flush what?"

"He."

"Who is he? **Say his name.**"

"I…I can't."

"Why did you kill yourself, Karras?"

"I wasn't strong enough… Not against he."

"Right, he. Funny how we keep arriving at this juncture. Tell me his name, Karas, tell me his name."

"I…"

"SAY IT!"

"I can't….. I can't…"

Priest scowled, ran a hand through his hair in frustration and then growled,

"Alright, Karras. You can go away now."

"...I can't."

"Yeah, you already said that. You're as useless as an asshole on my elbow. Be gone, now. You may leave, spirit."

The spirit inhabiting Lucy fell silent, Priest waited for Lucy to say something or get up, but she did nothing.

"Come on, Lucy. It's almost sun-up, we need to get moving."

Twenty seconds passed while Priest waited impatiently, he clapped his hands inches away from Lucy's face, barking,

"Lucy, snap out of it!"

During his outburst, Priest drew breath, and caught a whiff of the faint smell of sulfur. Slowly, Lucy turned to face Priest and looked up at him with a smile of endless wickedness.

It was then that Priest truly regretted everything.

* * *

**R&R**

**Next Chapter**

Priest gets an unexpected guest who might be able to help with his predicament.


	35. Damnation

**Three Days Later**

_Georgetown, Washington_

The man standing in front of the door smiled with glee as the lock clicked open. He stood up and turned the knob as quiet as he could, reaching to the back of his coat and retrieving a revolver. He thumbed back the hammer as he pushed the door open and reached for the light switch with the other hand.

Five iron-firm fingers, each one as cold as death gripped his switch before his right hand found its target. And faster than he could panic, he'd been pulled into a headlock and heaved, sent flying through a wooden table.

His gun had slipped away from his grip as he hit the wood, he felt around seeking it. He found himself being forced to his feet and being forced through French-doors and over the railing of a balcony.

Those same cold fingers gripped his ankle, keeping gravity from doing what gravity does. The man flailed around as he was suspended seven stories above ground, until a growl came from above.

"Who sent you?"

"Jesus! Pull me up!"

"Who sent you, was it Josephine or Leiter?"

"What?!"

"WAS IT JOSEPHINE OR WAS IT BENJAMIN?"

"I don't know who the fuck you're talking about!"

There was a moment of silence before the man was pulled up and unceremoniously tossed on the tiled floor of the balcony. He lay down for a few moments, breathing deep.

"I believe you, you get to live for now. But the welfare of your kneecaps depends on telling me how you found me?"

"Ways and means, you son of a bitch. But it wasn't easy, Priest, I'll tell you that."

"Who told you about me?"

"Spike sends you his regards."

"Spike? And why has that yob drunk been talking about me? Who are you?"

"I'm Constantine; John Constantine, asshole. I'm here to help you."

* * *

"There she is."

Constantine stepped into the darkened room, Priest following right behind him. He could smell the stench of sulfur Priest spoke of, and despite the darkness, could make up restrained motions on the bed.

Priest flipped a switch on the wall, and light filled the room. Lucy was on the bed, spread-eagled from all limbs, ties to the bed posts and legs. Blood stained the top of her white cream blouse, and she had a black eye.

She jerked toward them, her one good eye filled with hellish rage and malice. Slobbering franticly through a clenched jaw, she growled something in a language that Constantine didn't understand.

""Hmm. The possessed often speak in their native languages." said Constantine as he lit a cigarette with an ornate Zippo lighter, "'She Dutch?"

"She's German."

"Do you know what she just told me?"

"She said that your mother sucks the flaking cocks of lepers in the deepest circles of hell."

"Hmph. Does she swallow?" asked Constantine as he blew smoke onto Lucy's face, then turned around to leave the room, "It'd probably be awful if she had to swallow."

Priest turned off the lights and followed Constantine out.

"Can you help her?"

"Sure…. It'll be tricky, though." Said Constantine as he sat down on a couch.

"Why did you come after me, Constantine?" asked Priest as he stood by the shattered French doors.

"A few months after you left LA, there was a blip on the psycho-ethereal radar. Several people had dreams of you and your friend and the end of the world.

"Papa Midnite, the man who owns the club where you used to fight, got me to try and get to the bottom of this, figure up which end is up. I worked my way over here, following a lead from a friend of mine who spoke of an 'Invisible war' in his suicide note. I paid the guy downstairs fifty bucks to call me the moment you were out. Which begs the question, how come you aren't?"

"I caught you tailing me, and caught on to your deal with the concierge, which was why I snuck right back in here after I'd walked through the front door."

"I wasn't tailing you. I made a point to stay the hell away from you, but whatever.

Look, Priest, the deal is this; I pull the demon out of your girlfriend, you tell me what's going to happen."

"It has nothing to do with Angels or Demons or the second coming or the apocalypse."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Fine, you help Lucy, and you have my word I'll tell you everything."

"Awesome." Said Constantine as he headed to the door, "I'll need to pick up a few things. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

* * *

**Later**

"So… about Midnite….Does he-?"

"Yeah, he knows about your little scam, taking a dive when you've bet a lot of money on the underdog." said Constantine as he dragged a rusty dagger on the wooden floor, carving an arc of separate sigils. With each carving completed, Lucy would thrash more and more, struggling against the strong knots, and trying to hurl obscenities through a gagged mouth.

"How long do these things take?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"Exorcism isn't an exact science; I've done exorcisms that last three minutes, and spent a month doing another. Females are harder, an older person is harder, and psychics are very fucking harder.

"The good news is, the demon only manifested after the spell. Most possessions are gradual, take weeks for someone to start acting like your friend. That means it hasn't really dug in, yet.

"It'll definitely take all night, probably some of tomorrow too. And then you'll have to live up to your end of the bargain."

"Are you sure you weren't following me?"

"I'd remember if I was."

"You've done this a lot, haven't you?"

"Since I was twenty-three."

"Did you ever fail?"

There was a long pause, before Constantine answered with attempted indifference,

"Once or twice."

* * *

**The following morning**

Priest opened his eyes slowly, feeling nothing at first, not panic nor rage, not even surprise.

Priest had heard many a gunshots in his protracted life, on the bad streets of Chicago, to the beaches of France and darkened Mexicans barrooms. The gunshot sound from far below was unexpected, but now that he heard it, he knew it did not sound final at all.

"CONSTANTINE!" yelled Priest, bolting to his feet and heading to Lucy's room. He pushed the door open to see Constantine hunched over Lucy's body, pressing some sort of amulet onto her skin. Lucy hissed and thrashed violently as she attempted to break free.

"I heard." Said Constantine, "Look, there's something I didn't tell you."

"No shit."

"I didn't get a tip in a friend's suicide note, I conned someone into telling me what they knew."

"Who?"

"A foot soldier of The Damnation Brigade." Said Constantine as he stepped away from Lucy for a second, "They're an Aryan supremacy-slash-satanic cult. They have an Oracle who for predicted your arrival. They must have been the ones following you."

"What do they want with us?"

"They don't want shit to do with you, they want Lucy. She's some kind of fucked up messiah to them; powerful psychic possessed by a demon, and look at her; she's miss Germany."

Priest heard machine gun fire distantly, and took a hard look at Lucy, she was a frantic as ever, showing no signs of being cleanses from the abomination that had taken her over.

"You're not nearly done, are you?"

"No. You'll have to take them on, buy me time." Said Constantine as he returned to his work, picking up an old yellowed book and reading from it in Aramaic.

"And how do I know that you're not one of those fucks downstairs?"

Constantine shut the book and looked at Priest in shocked awe.

"For god's sake, people are dying!"

"Fuck them!"

"What?!"

"You lied to me, you probably drew them here. I should throw you out a motherfucking window!"

"Do that and there'll be no one to help your friend." Answered Constantine.

Priest hung his head and retreated out of the room and headed to what was left of the table he'd sent Constantine through last night, and picked up the gun from among the broken pieces of wood before heading back into the room and handing it to Constantine.

"You need it more than I do." said Constantine.

"No, not really. Did Spike tell you a lot about me?"

"You're wasting a lot of-" said Constantine as he took the gun before he was cut off.

"Did Spike. Tell you. A lot. About me?"

"He told me some."

"Did he tell you about Alabama Boris?"

"Yeah…" answered Constantine uncomfortably as he seemed to recall something he rather didn't, "You scalped him with a spoon over an insult."

"Exactly." Said Priest as he walked away, "Keep that in mind, Constantine."

* * *

**Later**

Priest squeezed the bridge of his nose with one hand, as he often did to cope with stress, and poured himself a glass of Vodka with the other. Filling the glass, he pushed away a dead body half-hunched over the bar and set the bottle in the empty spot.

Despite the simple effort, it made him wince in pain.

Priest leaned down and took a butterfly knife off of another dead body and then unbuttoned his own blood soaked shirt and looked at the few doe or so bullet entry wounds. The cultists had come armed with machine and shotguns, and whatever shots they got at him, most had already exited his body, but enough remained to bother him. He flipped the knife open and poured the Vodka from the bottle onto his chest, and then took to digging the bullets out.

It was nine a.m.; he'd last seen Lucy and Constantine over three hours ago, slightly longer then from when the last of the Aryan brigade had his throat ripped out.

The police were outside, and had attempted to charge in a few times, but were scared away by gunfire from the man inside who could hear them coming from a mile away.

Priest dug up the last of the bullets, then closed his shirt and buttoned his jacket, picked up his glass and gulped it at once, then stood scanning the hotel lobby, painted sangria with the blood of belligerent and victim alike.

The telephone rang. Priest threw the glass against a wall and picked the receiver up, speaking calmly,

"You've reached the front desk at the Georgetown Reservoir Hotel, how may I help you?"

_"This is Constantine, its over."_

* * *

Priest could feel Lucy tremble in his arms as he carried her through the sewers.

Constantine wasn't pleased with what Priest had told him, and obviously was a bit skeptic. Priest's tale of an invisible cold war between two secret factions was far from the cataclysmic apocalypse of meteorite showers and plagues crows that Constantine was expecting. Nonetheless, each departed with what they bargained for, with the occultist choosing to flee above ground.

Before he left, he'd told Priest of what had happened. During the course of the thirteen hours exorcism, Constantine had learned the demon's name was Pazuzu, and that he held some power once, but lost a great deal of it following its catastrophic possession of Regan MacNeil in the early seventies, that ended with the deaths of Fathers Merrin and Karras, the latter of which had jumped to his death seconds after the demon had begun consuming him. MacNeil survived, but Karras' soul was bound to Pazuzu, who could neither inflict any control nor venture back to hell, and as such the two had been keeping each other's hellish company for the past thirty-five years.

Lucy was more or less cured, but the ordeal had taken a toll on her. The exorcist told him she'd be incoherent for some time, and that she might be feverish for the next few days, but would be back to normal eventually.

The worst of it was behind them, and Priest regretted ever making the trip. He'd had to stand by helplessly for days trying to figure out what to do until Constantine's unexpected visit, without which Lucy might have been lost forever.

And for what? A second hand account from a character as shady as Constantine of a hell spawn boasting to have possessed MacNeil decades ago. Priest wondered why the League even bothered to hide it.

Even if they had proof, and if when presented to the press and it was spun to bring up questions regarding her mental health, it was an entirely recoverable PR hiccup. He'd certainly seen less favorable politicians recover from worse.

_"we… need to…"_ mumbled Lucy weekly.

"Shhhh. It's alright. You rest; we'll head to New York as soon as it's dark."

* * *

R&R

**Next Chapter**

Kitty Cat Lick?


	36. The Lick

**One Day Later**

_New York City_

"Mona's going to want to know why we haven't called in for five days." Said Lucy tiredly, wrapped up in a blanket and laying down on her side of the train cabin, while Priest read a newspaper sitting on his side.

"I know." Mumbled Priest as he turned the page.

"What are we going to tell her?"

"Whatever you like. How's your eye? The bruise is gone."

"I know you're mad at me."

"I ain't."

"Yes, you are, and I'm not even being psychic."

"You're being wrong."

"You're upset, stop pretending to read that newspaper and talk to my face."

"There is a plague ravaging Scotland, it's already swept through all the places where I grew up. Every scientist and medical authority in the United Kingdom is at a complete loss at what is to be done. John English is talking about evacuation."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"That might explain why I'm upset, there's also the fact that we've wasted a week of our lives."

"Well, at least we learned something."

"What? Not to trust Angels?" asked Priest, "Or is it just the Angel of Death? You know, the one who said we had to come here."

"So, you **are** mad at me, then?"

"No, I'm not…. Look, just forget it."

* * *

**Later**

Lucy didn't care much for elevator, she never did. She could feel her stomach fill with lead as the iron cage rose through the first few floors of the Flatiron Building. It was only twenty minutes ago that Priest left her at her apartment building, ordered her to get some sleep, even clumsily offering to stay and keep her company, in an awkward display of warm-heartedness that came off as barely more tender than comedic and was instantly regreted by Priest who pt on a gruff demeanor and announced he would head to his and Sayid's apartment until nightfall.

Priest had no actual cause to order her at all, and he was likely to just shrug her 'insolence' off, that was what Lucy thought as she exited the elevator along with a few other tenants at their floor. She made her way to an office with a sign reading "", unlocked the door with her key and waltzed in.

She was instantly met with a purr and the gentle feeling of whiskers rubbing at her heel. Lucy leaned down and picked up Ingrid the cat, holding it slightly above her head and looking upon the feline's face.

_"Ingrid, I missed you! Did Eel take good care of you?"_

"Um, I don't speak German….."

Lucy looked to the side to see a very familiar face, yet one she least expected see there.

"To…Tony Stark?!"

The man's face twisted out of shape, like burning rubber, his entire body grew leaner and slightly taller, turning in seconds into a face she did expect to see there.

"…But I couldn't help hearing my name."

"Eel!" said Lucy as she allowed O'Brien to hug her, "You've been practicing, haven't you? You can impersonate anyone, now?"

"Eh, I'm getting better. I made myself to look like Priest yesterday. I did Sayid too, but with my pale Irish skin, it just looked freaky. Speaking of the devil, where is the old bloodsucker?"

"Back at his place, he wanted to rest."

"You look like you could do with some yourself. You look pale. Er. Much paler than usual."

"Did Kroenen do –"

"Yep, tried to kill us all five days ago. It's a good thing Priest chained he living fuck out of him."

"Yes, I suppose it is. I better start getting him under my control."

"Later. You'll want to sit in on the powwow."

"What powwow?"

"It's something Barnes heard while he was following McNeil across the country. Might b big."

**--**

"Where were you?" Mona demanded to know, holding a steaming cup of coffee.

"Umm." Stammered Lucy, trying to think of an appropriate story that involved as much truth as possible. She was not a terribly adept liar, and the sight of Shaun, Mona and Sayid sitting silently and staring at her in the surveillance room didn't help much.

"Why did not check in? What happened to your lap top?"

"We had to vacate our hotel."

"Why?"

"Trouble with the local cops. We had to do some breaking and entering."

"And you two left something that led the cops to you?"

"That's what I said, it was my fault."

"Dammmit. Priest should have made sure you didn't make any mistakes, he's the goddamn expert."

"Where is he?" asked Sayid.

"He said he'll be in later."

"What happened to your lap top?" asked Mona.

"We're pretty sure it self destructed when nobody entered the password in ten hours."

"If the League didn't get it, you mean."

"Well… Yes." Answered Lucy, buckling under Mona's unexpected mildly aggressive scrutiny.

"Well?" asked Mona as she took a sip of her coffee, "Don't tell me you've come empty handed."

"Well, we found out that, um, McNeil was, eh, possessed, demonically that is, when she was a little girl. She was exorcised by two Jesuit priests who shortly died after that."

For a few moments, it was as if none of the people in the room heard what she said. The silence stretched on for quite some time till Ingrid came into the room and jumped onto the table next to Sayid.

"Possessed?" asked Mona, without a hint of emotion in her voice.

"Her will, body and mind were hijacked by a –"

"I was raised Catholic, Lucy," said Mona as she set the mug down on the table, "I know what possessed is."

"Ah. Good."

"Please forgive me bluntness, Lucy, but this turned out to be a colossal waste, and we'll not talk about that anymore. Right now we have bigger fish to fry."

"Oh, really?" asked Lucy as she sat down.

"While you and Priest were doing whatever it is you were doing, we've been running surveillance around the clock, listening to and analyzing audio feed from several offices in the League's Branch here in the city, using the bugs Eel planted." Explained Sayid.

"There were three occasions on which Leiter communicated with someone referring to something as the Lick, and on one occasion; Kitty Cat Lick."

"I beg your pardon, 'Kitty Cat Lick'?"

"That was our reaction, too." Said Mona.

"At first we didn't pay much attention to it, but the Barnes passed on some of his own findings." Said Sayid, "She had briefly referred to an event occurring recently in Kansas City."

"Barns said that 'Lick' is CIA Jargon for Leak." Said Shaun, "If so, then perhaps 'Kitty Cat Lick' is a sobriquet for 'Kansas City Leak'."

"Our best guess is that this concerns classified documents pertaining to McNeil finding their way to the press."

"Who was Leiter talking to? And about what?"

"It was a telephone conversation. The bugs didn't pick the other side clear enough. Whoever it was, they had a heated argument, Leiter was accusing them of refusing to turn over a prisoner out of feeling of feminine insecurity."

"It was Josephine, probably." Said Mona, "McNeil was her girl originally. With the senator switching to Leiter's side, they must have drifted apart, and a wedge must have been driven between Josephine and Leiter."

" But these people are the intelligence moguls of the world, this behavior seems overly childish."

"I see your point. But what difference does that make?"

"I don't know; I'm not sure it does make any difference. Something doesn't seem right with this picture. So, what are we going to do?"

"Find out more, particularly about this prisoner. We've been running missing person's report in Kansas City, Missouri and Kansas City, Kansas, looking for missing journalists or reporters."

"But?"

"We're not really the best people for the job." Said Mona, "We've decided to bring this to Al-Sheikh's attention, let him tell us where to go from here. That being said, we're probably going to pack up and head for Gotham."

"Ah, I guess we're making headway." Said Lucy, "Seriosuly, though. _Kitty Cat Lick_?"

* * *

**Latter**

Lucy lifted the window pane and peered her upper half out the window. She took a deep breath of the New York night air, her eyes looking out at the lights on Broadway for a moment before looking to the side and asking,

"Huh, how can you smoke one of those things?"

Priest rolled a lit Cuban cigar in his fingers as he sat on the narrow ledge, five stories high.

"I like the flavor."

"I heard Mona gave you an earful. Well… I heard her giving you an earful. She does seem rather irritable today, doesn't she?"

"I would say so."

"But then, you did stay silent while she was talking to you and, um, stared at her chest a lot."

"What was I supposed to do? I had no idea what you'd told her."

"I pretty much left out the possession."

"And threw in a story of us fucking up a robbery. Thanks a lot."

"Well, that too."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"I know they know we're keeping something from them. But I doubt imaginations would run wild enough for them to think I was… you know."

Priest sighed.

"Forget about it, it's all over. Is everybody still inside?"

"Mona left. Shaun and Sayid are leaving in a few and so will I."

"I know, I'll have to take my turn at the listening post. Is Eel staying?"

"Yes."

"Hm. Well, then. Goodnight."

Lucy smiled at Priest's attempt at rudeness. She looked at him for a few moments as he puffed on his cigar before she said,

"You can't fight them all, Priest."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I know more about you than you think, Priest."

"What? You been trying to poke around my mind, again?"

"I don't need to. I know your type."

"What type is that?"

"You're your own man, Judas. You're used to sorting things out, with diplomacy at times, with intimidation, with grotesque violence. You like to think that no matter what happens, no matter how bad the odds, you can handle it all by yourself.

"But you can't. Not all the time, that's why you haven't slept in months. That's why you couldn't look me in the eye since we came back. You couldn't save me, I was taken over by something beyond your scope and you couldn't help me. The best you could do was giving me a black eye.

"You get me back to New York safe only because of kismet. If Constantine hadn't come knocking on our door, I'd still be tied to that bed."

"He didn't exactly come knocking."

"I know, he was sneaking in, and you almost killed him. So what does that tell you?"

"That's an interesting theory, Wagner. Let me guess, before you joined the opposition you were.."

"A psychology student, yes."

"Ah. Psychology. I remember a time before it. It was relaxing. I'm not entirely sure why the world had to go and get analytical. Did you know Jung was an alleged Nazi sympathizer?"

"I'm a Freudian." Lucy said, then smiled a knowing smile before retreating back in, speaking softly, knowing Priest could hear her, and that he was unwillingly hanging on to her every word.

"You can't win them all, Priest. Not by yourself, that's why you have the rest of us."

* * *

R&R

If any of these chapters seem self indulgent, please tell me so that I don't make a fool of myself.

**Next Chapter**

Return to Gotham


	37. The Wire

**Three Days Later**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"Mind if I ask you something, Eel?"

"Ask." Said O'Brien as he tossed a pound of oranges into the shopping cart and pushed it along.

"You were with this bunch for some time, yeah?"

"Sure, I was part of the Venezuelan cell."

"Right. Did you buy the grocery then too?"

"Heh. You feeling cooped up, Shaun?"

"This is supposed to be the special black-ops super team innit?" asked Shaun as he dragged his feet, "It seems like we've not been doing what we're meant to."

"Come on, we were the first heist crew to rob a bank ever to rob a bank from under the man of steel's nose."

"Right, but then what? Just a lot of skulking around, watching you while you meet white collars in coffee shops, planting bugs, torturing drug yobs in basements, all rot."

"What? Torturing?"

"My Birthday. It was in Baltimore."

"Listen, Shaun, I know you're after revenge, and there's not one in this merry band who doesn't get what you've been through, but you gotta chill."

"I know, it's just... That's it, they know why I'm doing this and they've just let me tag along but won't let me in on anything."

"I don't think the Saudi is the kind of man to do anything outta courtesy. And what are you talking about, anyway? You were in the bank; you backed me up when we were planting the bugs in New York, right?"

"Well, then, why are we buying oranges while the others are out there prepping for the big score?"

"They said they were meeting a guy who is identity must be kept a secret, and the three of 'em are the ones who already know about whoever the guy is. And besides, Lucy is here too, and she went to Georgetown with Priest. Where is she?"

"Bog… Um, ladies room."

"Oh, well, since she's not here, I gotta ask you; have you two talked?"

"About what?"

O'Brien's mouth stretched into an exaggerated smile.

"Come on, you tellin' me you don't know Lucy has got a thing or you?"

"No. What makes you think that?"

"I don't know, it's just a feeling."

"Well, Eel, old man, you are mistaken. Because I think someone else may be the interest of our Teutonic teammate."

"Who?"

"A certain bloke, very old, doesn't tan very well."

"Don't tell me it's Kroenen!"

"More talkative."

"What, Priest?"

"Fuck yeah."

"Come on! That's… That's crazy talk!"

"No, it's clear as daylight. She's obviously hiding something about her and his trip to Washington, and then there are their conversations that seem to stop whenever someone walks into a room. I wouldn't be too surprised if it turned out they were as late as they were because they'd slipped a dirty weekend. And Sayid noticed it too, he joked that he was going to plant a bug in Lucy's room to find what was going on."

"Are you sure he's joing?"

* * *

"How many people are in your unit?"

"Seven…Six." Answered Mona as she and Sayid set up a folding table in the middle of the empty platform of the old, abandoned subway station. Priest crouched near the rails, taking large whiffs of air, while Bruce Wayne folded his coat and draped it over a folding chair.

"Well, which is it?" asked Wayne as he set up a folding chair by the table.

"Six." Said Mona, who then got a look from Sayid, and said in response to his obvious query, "Kroenen doesn't count, right?"

"And the other three-"

"They don't know a thing about you." Said Mona, "They're reliable, but they don't and won't know you're with the opposition."

"Good."

"There's dead bodies here, I can smell it." Priest stated.

"I can't smell anything buy stale air." Said Sayid.

"Well, you wouldn't."

"I don't anything about any dead bodies. Is that a problem?" asked Wayne.

"No, a proper lair needs a few skeletons. What would the neighbors think?" said Priest as he straightened up and headed to join the other three.

"This station hasn't been used since the depression; there's possibly two people in the city who might know about it, if at all." Explained Wayne, "There's two exits only, one is a metal door that opens into a utility closet in a supply room. The other leads into an adjacent tunnel system, I've left Gotham Metro maintenance crew jumpsuits you can use to slip in and out undetected."

"How did you find it?" asked Sayid as he sat at the table along with Mona, while Priest preferred to stand up next to Wayne.

"I used it until a year ago as a safe house. I don't use it anymore, so the opposition may use it from now on as it pleases. When do you plan on performing?"

"We don't know yet. Ideally, we'd try and take our target when she's being transferred to New York, providing that happens on schedule. Otherwise, we might have to go for the Hail Mary pitch. Seventeen days is a number I like."

Wayne nodded as he pulled a thick file out of his satchel and spread its content on the table.

"Wayne Tech has been developing something for the military, it's called 'RedEye'. It's basically an ultrasound machine in orbit, it produces schematics of any building in its range. The kinks haven't been entirely ironed out, but it works."

"Yeap, that sounds like something the military would like."

"These are what we got a month ago when we used on the Novick Building." Said Wayne as he pointed at the mentioned schematics.

"The Novick Building was built in 1912, when there were only six people in the League. Ever since the eighties, when the League took it over, there had been some minor renovations done, officially."

"But these don't match." Remarked Mona, looking at both sets of schematics.

"Exactly, they've added some news sublevels, among other things. Construction-wise, that's nigh impossible given the circumstances, but there it is..."

"How many?"

"The RedEye gives us three. But it might be more."

"Let's talk about surveillance." Said Sayid.

"The audio has been taken care of, the video equipment is over there by the column; you'll have to set it up yourself.

"I planted a sensor on a gargoyle across the street from the Novick building, the director's office specifically. The sensor sends a laser beam to the window frame and picks up the vibrations, converts the bit stream into sound that made the glass vibrate and transmits it here."

"Really? Sounds so easy we should be ashamed."

"Actually, the technology is not uncommon, and therefore not without technology developed to counter it, and the glass is nearly perfectly sound proof. With filtering and amplification, it's still very difficult to hear anything audible. However…"

"That's where I can be of use." Said Priest with a smirk, "I don't care what the newspapers say about you, Wayne, you're one cleaver son of a bitch."

Wayne smiled in spite of himself, before resuming his emotionless, practical demeanor.

"And speaking of the director… I've tried following her around, but mostly she seems content to shuttle between her apartment and the Novick building. Days pass sometime without her ever leaving her office."

"What about her girlfriend?"

"Mandy Hughes? More sociable, but she barely meets with Josephine outside business hours. I have details of both for the past couple of weeks, and less comprehensive ones for the past two months."

Priest picked up a picture off the table that was obstructed by other documents, eyed it fully and sounded a long, low whistle.

"Goddamn, she's a redhead!"

The other three looked up at Priest, who turned the picture and held the top of it with two fingers so they could see, smiling with glee. The picture was one from a high angle of Mina, having been obviously taken without her knowledge.

"She used to be a bleached blond, but she converted back." Priest explained with a chuckle, "By Woden's tits, I'd hit that so hard that whoever could pull me out would be the king of … What?"

Mona and Sayid exchanged a look among themselves, then with Wayne.

"What?"

"Are you about done?" asked Mona.

"Er, yeah. I'm… I'm okay."

"Well, alright, then." Said Wayne, "Is that it?"

"We got it covered." Said Mona, still looking suspiciously at Priest.

"Good, you need anything at all, get in touch with me through Nemo."

* * *

**One Month from Now**

_London_

"I'm on my way out." Said Harmony, nervously pouring spoonful after spoonful of sugar into her cup of coffee. Jimmy and Mernae sat around the same table as her in a small café in Soho at an hour past sunset, their demeanor much more relaxed.

"What makes you think that?" asked Jimmy.

"What do you think? The old perv's tired of me." Harmony said, sticking a cigarette between her lips and fumbling through her purse for a disposable lighter, "I'll be transferred by the end of the month."

"You'd said the same quite a few times before. Just get yourself made over, love, we'll do it together." Said Mernae, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth and breaking it.

"He's set his sights on his next target, some Russian slut who has never heard of a bra."

"Heh. Typical."

"How so?"

"You know, his whole Cold War nostalgia. Let me guess, a tall blonde with an accent?"

"Oh, screw you!"

"Hey!"

"I'm sick of your psychobabble bullshit! Why do I care why he's into which women? What the hell am I going to do?"

Mernae sighed.

"How old is she?"

"I don't know, twenty-five or something."

"Is she a vampire?"

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"I don't know, the ones from Russia, their names starts with a C."

"Corvinusian. They're from Hungary, actually, but a small faction had moved to the Ukraine two-hundred years ago."

"I don't care!"

"Look, I'll take care of it." Said Mernae angrily, "Just get me her name and address."

"Yeah, whatever." Said Harmny as she picked up her purse and stood up.

"Wait. What about the meeting we asked you to gather intelligence on?" asked Jimmy.

"I couldn't."

"What?"

"Did I stutter?" said Harmony as she walked out the door. Jimmy stood up and followed her out, catching up to her outside.

"Alright, stop acting like a –"

"Bitch? Wait, we're in England, so maybe the word is cunt. Is that what you were going to say?"

"What? No!"

"Yeah, well, that's what I am? Aren't I?" asked Harmony as she walked away, "The high holy opposition's whore."

"What's her problem?" Jimmy asked himself as Mernae stood by his side and they both watched the vampire hail a Taxi.

"She's cracking." Said Mernae as she hailed a cab of her own, "Her Job for most of the past year has been to fulfill every little wish of an aging chauvinistic arsehole, and she's cracking."

"So what are we going to do?"

"First, we'll kill the Ukranian."

"Jeez."

"Harmony's position is among our most valuable assets, we have to protect it. Second, I'm going to persuade Mason to cut Harmony loose."

"Wait a second, that doesn't make sense."

"I know. Let's get to bed, we'll head to Sandford in the morning."

"Right, the big shindig. So who's coming?"

"Everybody. Have you ever tried Mason's grilled Salmon? Well prepare to have you socks well knocked."

* * *

**One Week Later**

_Gotham City_

"How can we be sure that's what they said?" asked Eel.

"You can sure because I'm the one with the superhuman hearing and I'm telling you that is what I heard." Answered Priest sharply.

The Minutemen stood around the wooden table, having originally intended to sit around it. The reason for the little gathering was to discuss what Priest claimed to have heard on the wire on the eve of his seventh day of audio surveillance, which was Josephine conceding to Leiter's demands of transporting the prisoner involved in the Kansas City Leak.

A subway train rumbled in the adjacent tunnel, the six were forced to remain silent until It'd had passed.

"I know you heard what you said you heard, Priest." Said O'Brien, "But you said it the sound was distorted, how can we know you didn't just mishear something."

"Because I hear you calling me an asshole under your breath while the train was passing."

"That's fantasticawesome, but still-"

"But still my ass." Said Priest as he turned away and walked down the platform.

"Hey, where the hell do you think you're going?" asked Mona.

Priest jumped across the tunnel to the other side and opened the metal door leading to the adjacent tunnel with a loud clang.

"I've been sitting on my ass with a set of headphones on my head for a week. I'm going up for a beer."

"Like hell, and you've still got a job to do."

"Josephine has gone home for the night. The recorders are on. I'll listen to them sometime when the wire is quiet."

"We're not done talking, now get back here."

"I'm done, what's left for the five of you is to decide if I'm reliable enough. I'm giving up my vote, you decide what to do."

Priest stepped through the door and closed it behind him, just as another train rumbled by.

When the sound went down, it was Sayid who spoke.

"He hasn't slept since we were on the Island. Four or five months. I caught him the other day talking to someone called Lilith, he was all alone."

"I know." Said Mona quietly, "Alright, let's have a show of hands."

* * *

R&R

**Next Chapter:**

The minutemen cross the Rubicon.


	38. The Rubicon

**Two Days Later**

_Gotham City_

"Why don't they just fly her to New York?"

"Wha?"

"I said why don't they-"

"I heard what you said. But damn it, Shaun, why would you ask that?"

Sayid looked over his shoulder in the back of the van at Priest and Shaun as they talked, before returning to his own devices.

"Look, I'm just wondering." Said Shaun, "Sayid, what do you think?"

"… Yes, an aerial transport is probably faster and more secure. But it's easy to detect. It's a trade off. It's curious but not suspicious."

"Thank you, that's all I wanted to hear."

There was a knock on the back of the van. Shaun holstered a gun and pushed the door open, exiting to join Mona and O'Brien before closing the door

"Young Shaun is growing up, getting paranoid like a proper spook."

"Do you think its cold feet?"

"Possible. Though he's been raring and ready to let loose same mayhem for months now."

"We should get ready."

* * *

"Why are you stopping?"

The river looked to the man sitting next to him in shock and said,

"We just hit somebody, we gotta-"

"We gotta nothing'. We keep going, we're on a priority run; we can't stop for anything. It was probably a vagrant."

"Vagrant? Jesus, man, listen to yourself.." said the driver as he ht the brakes.

"Hey! You stop this car and you're a dead man!"

The truck's velocity decreased dramatically, and a second later the two trucks behind it slowed down as well, and there was a thud on the roof.

"Go! Go!"

The driver hit the gas pedal while the passenger readied a submachine gun.

"Top speed!" barked the passenger, "Convoy Charlie, what did you see?"

_"We didn't see anything Convoy Alpha, what's the situation?"_

There was a sound of a tap on the window, the passenger looked aside and only glimpsed a small black square near the top before the window imploded.

As the two men were stunned by the hail of spraying shards of glass, something in a copper mask peaked from over the side, grabbing hold of the passenger and pulling him out the window and onto the street outside, before slithering in and driving the driver's head to the side, smashing it into the window three times until it shattered.

The assailant pushed the dead driver aside, then seized the steering wheel and the emergency brakes, then with a swift jerk and a pull sent the truck turning on its side.

That was hell's cue to break loose, the two trucks found themselves blocked by the turned truck and were force to screech to a stop, just as gunfire from the tree line ripped their tired to shreds.

At the front, the man in the mask flicked a switch on the dashboard before exiting and heading to the back, brandishing a pair of knives. The rear door had opened, revealing a group of armed and armored men, turned on their sides and wondering with side was up. The man in the mask went to work with deadly precision, dispensing carnage with the silence of a dream.

Shaun, Mona and Sayid's approach to dealing with the second car was just as effective, but not nearly as gruesome. The two men at the front had died in the hail of gunfire, so Shaun pushed the bodies aside while Mona and Sayid waited and got the drop on the men inside, eliminating all almost before any had a chance to react.

In the third truck, it was Lucy that got behind the switch, but she hesitated to flick it.

"Priest?" she spoke and a response came through her earpiece, saying,

_"I'm here. The prisoner isn't."_

"Mona?"

_"We're alright, mostly."_

"What's happened?"

_"There was one that managed to squeeze off a few rounds. I caught a slug in my jacket. Sayid got one in the arm. He's okay, though. It didn't even knock him down. Did you find the prisoner? Because she's not here."_

"…I haven't started, yet."

_"Well go ahead, we don't have all day."_

Lucy hung her head, feeling a sense of revulsion as her mind made a sinister beckon, before she flipped the switch.

The doors in the back were opened, the men inside ha recovered from the shock and were ready for a fight they know would be for their lives.

The one man who stood outside was not Priest, it was an entirely other man in a similar mask who also held a pair of long knives.

From where she sat, Lucy could hear the sound of sporadic bursts of gunfire and sound merciless iron cutting through flesh and metal. Lucy waited till Kroenen was over, chanting in a near whimper, "Don't harm the woman, don't harm the woman."

Some way back, behind all the bloodshed and murder, O'Brien lay on the asphalt groaning as Shaun helped him up. He was the vagrant that deliberately put himself in harm's way to enable Priest to take control of the first truck.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"Having a body that bends took the punch out of it, but I still feel as soar as hell."

The two caught up to the rest quick enough. The other five minutemen were gathered near the third car in wait.

"Well, where is she?" asked Shaun.

"Not here." Said Sayid and winced in pain as Lucy bandaged his arm.

"What do you mean?"

"They were decoys, all three." Said Priest from beneath the mask he wore, which was one of Kroenen's, "The whole convoy was nothing but a decoy. Heh."

"That doesn't make any sense. Where's the prisoner?"

"In a different convoy on another route, or she's in a similar one twenty minutes behind. Who knows, maybe you're right, maybe she is on a helicopter. She could even be in New York already. There's no way of knowing."

"Wait, I got hit by a fucking truck and now I have nothing to show for it?" asked O'Brien.

"Hey, I'm wearing one of Kroenen's masks, you don't even want to know what it smell's like in here, believe you me."

"So what are we going to do?"

"We need to talk to Al-Sheikh." Said Sayid.

"Nothing against Al-Sheikh, but I don't he can shed any light on his matter."

"Then what's your idea, Priest?"

"There's not much we can do, unless you all are up to descending on the Novick building like the collective fist of the angry gods. A convoy like this is bound to have a check-in protocol. We need to get away right now."

"Would it be safe for us to return to Gotham?" asked Lucy.

"Probably, maybe not, but we should be anywhere but here."

"You know what? I'm in favor of us getting out of Gotham." Said O'Brien, "We could hide out in Baltimore, or Metropolis."

"No, we should stay here." Said Shaun.

"We'll decide somewhere away from here." Said Priest, "I'll get the car, who has the keys?"

"Mona has them." Said Sayid as he painfully put his jacket on.

"Mona, honey, keys." Priest said as he walked up to Mona, who was standing by the side of the road looking into the woods as she seemed deep in thought.

"You're right."

"Thanks, for your support. Now fork them over."

Mona turned around to face the group,

"Not about us getting away. I mean you're right about that, but you're right about the other thing."

"What other thing?"

Mona took a pause as if not consider what she was thinking for the last time, before saying with confidence,

"I say we hit the Novick building."

There was a long pause as everybody save for Kroenen and Priest looked among each other.

"I say we hit it, today."

"Mona… Ever since we first met and became a team, I was the impulsive one and you were the one that kept me from getting killed. We're great that way, why do we have to change it now?"

"You must be joking, Mona." Said Sayid, "Have you any idea what you're talking about? The magnitude of what you're suggesting?"

"Yeah," said O'Brien, "I'm not an authority on mental welfare, but that's insane, babe."

"I just saw Kroenen and Priest at their peak taking out a dozen men each with nothing but knives, This is the first time I've witnessed Sayid in action and I was impressed. I've just saw what the British intelligence guys saw when they put together the first League, and what Al-Sheikh saw when he put us together. You're right, Priest, I am the calculating one, and I think we can do it…. They won't see us coming."

There was a distant sound of an eighteen wheeler from a mile or so away, it was then that Mona started running up the road to where their car was parked with the other following her.

* * *

The ride had been silent, as each was mulling over what Mona had proposed. Mona had driven back into the city, and they were passing under a bridge at the moment.

"Stop the car." Said Sayid, "We should be facing each other for this."

The car stopped, and everyone save for Kroenen who was tucked in the trunk got out to face each other. Finding himself protected by the bridge's shadow, Priest took the Kroenen mask off.

"I know what I'm asking of you…"

"Do you?" Sayid angrily interrupted, "You're ordering us to do something that's near impossible to be done with weeks of preparation, never mind six hours!"

"I'm not ordering it. I'm saying what I believe we should do."

"And I'm saying the reasons why we should not."

"It's just a building." Said Shaun, "Is it really that impossible?"

"It's a building with security codes, magnetic key cards and modes of security we haven't even heard about before, not to mention that they have what amounts to an army force."

"It's just bricks and glass and metal." Said Shaun, "What if they're not invincible, what if they're as vulnerable as anybody else?"

"Are you ready to put your life on the line to find out?" asked Sayid.

"Yes." Said Shaun, "I'm in."

Sayid sighed, and then spoke softly, "Shaun, I know why you've joined us and-"

"I'm in, too." Said Priest, "That makes it three for, all we need in just one more vote. Eel, come with us and I'll buy you a beer."

"No." said Mona, "We either all agree or it's off."

"Mona," Lucy said, "Even if we manage to do it by some miracle. We'd have to run far and fast, and there's no telling what they could do to stop us, and who could get hurt in the process. This will result in an all-out war."

"War is what the four Captains have been thinking about for some time, now. We've all been dancing towards it for months. There's not going to a peaceful resolution to this. Sooner or later, someone will have to cross the Rubicon."

"Al-Sheikh isn't going to approve of this." Said Sayid.

"Not unless we show up after the fact with the prisoner."

"You're proposing to keep him in the dark?"

"What's a Rubicon?" asked O'Brien.

Lucy walked away, she stood in the sunlight and looked up at the heavens above, as if to invoke something.

"It's a river in Italy." Said Shaun.

"Oh, and what does crossing it mean?" asked O'Brien, "You know what, never mind. Shaun, why…. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Yes, Eel, I'm sure."

"Well… Hell, I'll do it. Patrick O'Brien is a crook and a no-good son of a bitch, but he does not keep his friends out in the cold."

"You're all insane." Said Sayid, "Living in this city of men who think they're bats and mass-murdering clowns has gotten to your heads at last."

"I'm also in." said Lucy.

Everybody's eyes turned toward Sayid, who crossed his arms as he fumed with anger.

"Well?" asked Priest.

"The decision is up to you, Sayid." Said Mona, "Is it on or what?"

"Well," said Sayid with a bitter smirk, "I can't be the only one to live on. So I suppose today is the day we die like idiots."

"I guess that's that." Said Priest.

"It certainly is. Now tell me, what our mass suicide going to be like?"

* * *

R&R

**Next Chapter**

Priest dishes the League the mother of all insults.


	39. The Gotham Caper

**Six Hours Later**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

Mina reclined back in her ten-thousand dollar chair, closed her eyes and sighed as she ran her hands through her hair then braced the back of her neck. She opened her eyes and looked up at the clock to learn it was five in the evening, and then pressed the intercom button.

"Diana, has Miss Hughes checked in?"

_"Not yet, madam director."_

"Alright. Have a cup of tea sent here, dear."

Josephine got up and walked over to the side of her office, and stood looking out of the massive window for a minute or so at the street bellow where there seemed to be some commotion, until Diana walked in carrying a tray with teapot and a cup.

"Poor it, if you please."

"Yes, madam. I thought you might know, the prisoner's transport has been rescheduled for sixteen hours from now."

"Heh… Bloody Benjamin."

Josephine walked over to her desk and spoke softly,

"So…"

"I've found a candidate." Said Diana.

"Good. Have you contacted her?"

"Not yet, but soon."

"Good. That'll be all….. Say, have you any idea what's going on out front?"

"What do you mean?"

"There's quite a crowd gathered outside and-"

At that moment, a tall man in a suit burst through the door in a state of contained panic.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this, madam director," said the man with a nervous stammer, "But this is something you should know."

"What is it?"

"Well, there's a truck parked across the street from this building, it was parked there by what witnesses described a Middle Eastern man. When the police came to tow it, they noticed that the back was loaded with explosives…. Enough to level the entire block."

"Good god! A terrorist attack?" asked Diana.

"It would appear so. Bomb disposal are almost here, but Commissioner Gordon has ordered the evacuation of the whole block."

* * *

The cable dug into Mona's hip as she waded through the murky waters far bellow the surface of Finger River, the torch mounted on her helmet illuminated the way. She couldn't see them, but along the cable ten feet behind her, Kroenen followed her path, as sleek as he was, matching her pace, while ten feet behind him, Lucy clumsily struggled to advance in similar diving gear, only going further for being towed by her familiar.

The plan was not what most tactical experts would think of as rife with finesse, and had a high probability of failure, and a wise mind that was honest would be compelled to call it suicidal; but most of the minutemen were excited enough about it that they went ahead with it anyway.

Though the team did have the aid of a tactical expert in the form of Gotham's protector. Bruce Wayne had collaborated with the Mona and Priest on drafting a plan while the rest was simultaneously getting it ready. Lucius Fox, Wayne's trusted ally and armor had even supplied them with some equipment such as the diving gear Mona and Lucy were using.

The first phase of the plan, the easiest, most well planned part of the plan had gone smoothly. Sayid had parked a truck with alarming contents across the street from The League's Gotham headquarters and made sure to be seen as he suspiciously walked away. Xenophobia would take care of the rest.

The rest of the plan adhered to a time table, Priest had gone ahead thirty minutes ago, and Mona, Lucy and Kroenen had to rendezvous with him in minutes. Shaun, O'Brien and Sayid would not venture along with them; they had their own job to do.

The circle of let fell upon some sort of edge on the steep side of the riverbed, Mona stopped in her tracks and aimed the torch carefully to see that it was a tunnel, oval in shape and wide enough for a swimmer to pass. Mona swam toward it, motioning for Lucy to direct Kroenen to follow her lead.

The tunnel went lower for a dozen yards or so before it rose in a curve, after a few minutes of swimming, Mona has ran out of river water, she'd reached some sort of underground cavern. Mona climbed onto the hard surfaces around her, detached the cable and took off her helmet. She took out the torch and aimed it at her surroundings.

Kroenen reached the surface and climbed to the nearest surface by Mona and then stood idly as she removed the pack from his back. Lucy soon followed, and clumsily climbed toward the other two. Lucy removed her own helmet and lay on the rocks panting in exhaustion.

"No more diving…. Or swimming." Lucy announced as she regained her breath.

"Don't worry; we'll have to hike next."

"Oh, good."

"Come on." Said Mona as she took an Ingram gun out of the pack.

"What? We just got here!"

"Priest will be waiting. If we're late, he's likely to try and take the whole building down by himself."

* * *

**Thirteen Minutes Later**

Alfred Pennyworth carried the tray through the rocky yet manageable path that led him to where Wayne was sitting, starring intently at a computer screen bolted into the cave's granite walls.

"Alfred, do you think it was a mistake when I decided to join these people?"

Alfred set the tray with the bottle of Scotch on a work table amid various slightly-damaged electronic equipment, and then proceeded to pour a glass.

"It doesn't matter what I think, Master Bruce." Said Alfred, "I equally had my doubts when you first put on the cape. But then, you've never had any doubts about being the Batman."

"At first, I thought I wasn't joining any gang of outlaws, just helping a friend. Helping Nemo.

"I first met him the fourth year after I had first left, I had stowed away on a ship that turned out to be loaded with heroin and guns. When they knew that I had found out, they were going to kill me. It was then that Nemo attacked the ship, he saved my life. I served on his ship for the following few months, he taught me a lot. When I got off in Hong Kong, I thought I he was a great friend, a great teacher that I was never going to see again.

"And then he showed up here, with the same type of people that I've decided to spend the rest of my life fighting, who do as he orders, commit crimes for what he calls the greater good… Kidnap, piracy… I tried to ask one of them for help and he shattered a woman's ribs."

Wayne hung his head.

"I've made a mistake, and it's too late to turn around."

Alfred stood behind Wayne, preparing to offer him the drink, before changing his mind and raising it to his lips.

"I believe it's time, sir."

Wayne looked at the digital timer on the table before him, it was twenty second away from five-thirty P.M.. He tapped a few buttons on the keyboard and then once it fifty-nine seconds after five-twenty-nine, pressed enter.

* * *

**Minutes Ago**

"It's a good thing you showed up when you did." Said Priest, "I was about to storm the building by myself."

"That's amazing." Said Lucy nonchalantly, "What is this place? What's that smell?"

"It's a crematorium." Said Priest, shinning a flashlight through the darkened room that smelled of paint stripper and gas, "Someone died in the League custody, this is useful in making them disappear. The opening into the cave's bellow helps them get rid of the ash. It's one hell of an Achilles' heal, they should have used assigned more than just those guys to protect it."

Priest shined the light on a few bodies in that lay on the ground with broken necks and stripped of their clothes.

"The explosives are in place." Said Mona, "The clothes?"

"There's a problem with the clothes." Said Priest, "Over there, but there's a little problem."

"What?"

"Most of these guys were six feet; Lucy and Kroenen's height. There's only guy my or your size."

"Beautiful."

"Yes, that's what I said. I'm already bulletproof…"

"You don't have to convince me," said Mona as she put her rifle down and took off her jacket, "Just…. Don't do anything you would normally would do."

* * *

**Now**

"This can't be a terrorist attack," said Mina, "The mere notion is ridiculous. We know what-"

Just then, the lights went out and Josephine's computer went dead, the air conditioning went dead and all that remained was silence.

"A power outage?" commented Diana.

"Well, obviously, and at a most dubious time."

"Well, our generator will kick in in-"

"Shhh… Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The power returned, and life returned to the building.

"Oh, that's a relief."

"Who has left the building?"

"Everyone who is officially in the building." Said Diana, "The bulk of security has remained, intelligence is running at minimum."

* * *

**30 seconds ago**

It was all the result of calculated precision. In those sparse seconds, right after Wayne has pressed that button, temporarily shutting off all power in Gotham's Lower East side, and less than half a minute before the building's back up power source started up, Mona pressed a button of her own, or a trigger, rather.

The explosives went off in quick succession, blowing a hole through the wall. A split second later, Mona tossed a cylinder into the corridor outside, and as son as it settled on the ground, burst with bright, blinding light.

Stunned and deprived of their sights, the league personnel in the corridor were an easy target. Mona, Priest and Kroenen bolted from the crematorium, their eyes protected by dark visors. One by one, the staffers fell from bullet or knife.

Mona dropped her assault rifle and picked another from the ground as Lucy stepped into the corridor, like Mona and Kroenen she was wearing the League's security force's uniform, a SWAT-like navy blue uniform, equipped with Kevlar and a protective helmet. Priest wore a spare change of clothes he'd found in a closet.

"How long is the cylinder going to burn like that?" asked Priest as he took a tie and a suit jacket that wasn't stained with blood off a dead body which minutes ago was an intelligence agent.

"Eleven minutes," said Mona, "They're disabling the cameras over here, so when the power comes back on, they'll hopefully see nothing."

"Cool beans." Said Priest as he took a radio device off the belt of another dead body and tossed it to Mona.

As Priest put on the jacket and the tie, Lucy was equipping herself and Kroenen with some of the security personnel's weapons. They had brought on a small arsenal, but it wasn't what the League used and that didn't fit with the plan. The plan was to try to evade detection as long as possible by passing themselves off as the League's own, the cover would soon be blown, but ever second of anonymity mattered.

The power came back on. Priest tucked a handgun into the back of his belt and straightened up to face the other three.

"The crematorium would ideally be close to the holding cells, but we don't have all the time in the world." Said Mona, "Where do we go, Lucy?"

Lucy closed her eyes and seemed to focus for a few seconds before she headed to one end of the corridor and said, "Follow me."

* * *

_"There has been a security breach at sublevel four."_

Josephine hung her head as she leaned with her hand on her desk, listening through the intercom.

"What is it?" she asked.

_"We don't know yet, I've sent a team and-"_

"What do you mean you don't know?"

_"It might have happened during the blackout. It might be a technical fault, but we're getting nothing from the cameras in that sector but a white screen."_

"Surely you've tried radioing them?"

_"The radio system nodes might be down as well, they're the-"_

"Yes, the ones we use to regulate and record all communications." Said Josephine, "Report as soon as you have heard from your men."

* * *

"Which cell is Lang?" asked Mona, flanked by Priest as he walked to the block warden as he sat behind his desk.

"Who are you?" asked the warden, a strapping man approaching sixty.

Priest's hand rose from behind him, gripping his trench knife and punching the man with the knuckle dusters. Mona opened fire on two guards walking up and down the corridor.

The warden head-butted Priest, then bunched him in the ribs and then in the jaw, knocking a tooth out, but on his third his hand was caught, Priest got behind him and using the warden's own arm against him, brought him down on the table face first, busting his nose in.

"Don't move." Said Priest, with one arm maintaing his excruciating hold on the man's twisted arm, and with the other pressing the blade of his knife to the man's throat.

"Rangers, right?" asked Priest, "I always liked Rangers more than the Berets, or all of the marines. So don't get uppity and I won't be an asshole."

"Where's Lang?" asked Mona.

"Fuck you."

"I'll shoot you in the leg. Where's Lang?"

"Go fuck yourself."

Mona placed her shotgun on the table, then took out a pistol and shot the warden in the knee.

"You can let him go."

Priest let go of the man, he stood aside and kept an eye on him as he called, "Lucy!"

Lucy came in from the outside with Kroenen in her wake. Mona looked down at the warden as he howled in pain and said, "When I said I'm going to shoot you in the knee, did you think it was a euphemism for something else?"

"She's in the third cell to the left." Said Lucy.

The warden looked up at Lucy with shock and awe, before Priest kicked him in the face, knocking him out.

Lucy walked to a switch board behind the warden's desk and flicked a few switches. A buzzer sounded off and a door opened. Mona looked over at Lucy with a satisfied smile before she walked into the cell.

It was a six by ten foot space, just like the one she had been locked up serving a life sentence before Nemo and Priest freed her less than a year ago. The occupant, however, was unlike most of the inmates Mona knew. The prisoner was an attractive woman of thirty, auburn haired and slender, with a look of hopeless panic in her eyes.

"Lana Lang?" asked Mona.

"I… Who did you shoot?"

"The warden's knee." Said Mona, "I'm not one of them, I'm here to set you free."

* * *

"I can't believe this is working." Said Lucy, smiling with giddy excitement, "It's working!"

"It's not over yet." Said Priest as he wiped his trench knife clean.

"I know, but we've got this far!" said Lucy, tying to suppress a giggle, "So far, so good!"

"Heh. Funny you would say that." Said Priest, "I was sent to Cuba in sixty-three, on an assignment for the CIA. I had to assassinate a former agent that had defected. I threw him out of a window of the thirty-fifth floor."

"…And?"

"He kept shouting something as he fell those thirty-five stories, he kept shouting, 'So far, so good! So far, so good! So far, so SPLAT!' "

For a split second, Lucy saw Priest's eyes went with murderous intent and knew to step aside with haste. Priest raised the shotgun and fired it over Lucy shoulder, startling her. She backed away and looked behind her to see a dead guard fall with his brains blown out. He had managed to creep up on them and was about to gun them down when Priest beat him to the trigger.

"What happened?" asked Mona as she came out, pushing Lang out along with her.

Priest looked over at Lucy, pumping the shotgun in his hands, and said, "And then the guy turned into a red stain on the streets of Havana."

* * *

**Next Chapter**

Getting in was the easy part, but now that the four's cover has been blown, they have to rely on brute force to get Lana Lang out of the building, not to mention escape Gotham. But where are the other minutemen, and what steps will Mina take to stop them?

R&R


	40. Insult & Injury

**Now**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"Wait."

Mona took point, holding up a machinegun, poised to fire at anyone that could be lurking around a corner. Eight feet behind her, Lucy, Kroenen and Lang walked closely by, the latter of which wore a bulletproof vest over her blue jumpsuit, while Priest covered the rear, holding a shotgun in his hands and carrying a bag filled with guns on his back.

"Wait!"

Mona stopped and took a walked backward a few steps, keeping her gun raised, she took a gun out of a holster by her thigh and handed it over to Lang.

"Take it."

"No. I want to know who you are."

Mona turned around and looked at Lang, a look so fiery and intimidating that Lang took the gun with unsure hands.

"We're minutemen."

Without any further explanation, Mona advanced further, turning around the corner and signaling for them to follow her. Lang did not, only moving when being rudely shoved by Priest.

"Hey! Don't touch me!" Lang barked, growing agitated, "What do you mean you're 'Minutemen'? Where are you taking me?"

"We're breaking you out." Said Priest, "You're welcome."

"Breaking me out how?"

"We're winging it." Mona muttered rolling her eyes, firing at a guard with his back turned to her.

"Are you telling me you got here by winging it?"

"No, we had a plan for that." Said Priest, "Good one, too. We came through a cave that connected to Finger River, C4'd our way in from three floors down."

"What? We've been going up! Why wouldn't we just get out the same way?"

"By now they found out about it." Said Mona, gunning down two more guards, "It's got to be crawling with their people, ready for us."

Priest turned around suddenly, firing at a guard that came bursting through a door. He walked backward, brandishing the shotgun as the group of five approached a staircase that would lead to the ground floor.

* * *

Outside the sun had started a slow descent, disappearing completely behind the city's skyline. Officers stepped aside as Jim Gordon walked down the street, none of them daring to attempt to stop the police commissioner. Only Detective Bullock, a squat man with a cheap cigar constantly shifting between his hand and his teeth walked up to his side, saying,

"Better leave this to the pros, Jimbo."

Gordon disregarded the advice, and asked,

"Did you hear from Arkham, Harv?"

"Yeah." Said the detective and took a puff, "They're all packed in. The Joker and that chick he's banging that Batman put in the hospital, The Riddler, Dent, Scarecrow… All of them. Needless to say, this ain't their MO. You ask me, I think this is one time that the guys doing it are not the Gothamite variety of sickos. I mean let's not forget who the guy drove it in is."

"This isn't militant terrorism, or we'd all be dead already."

The leader of the bomb disposal had been walking toward Gordon and Detective Bullock the whole time. He'd taken off his protective mask and held it at his side and the three met up in the middle of the street.

"What do we got?" asked Gordon.

"It's… The best I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot." Said the specialist, "There's definitely enough explosives in there to wipe out half the block at least, hooked to a timer that has fifteen more minutes on the clock. It's also hooked up to the van itself, an attempt to open the doors means that it will detonate. We can't break the windows or cut our way in, either, because it's possible that whoever made attached trigger wiring under the matting. We wouldn't know where to cut."

"Do you recognize who might have done something like that?"

"Honestly? Whoever did it must have had some sort of government training."

"That's it, then? There's nothing we can do?"

"I'm sorry, Commissioner. We'll keep trying."

* * *

Lucy took off a glove and pressed it against the door at the top of the staircase, closed her eyes and seemed to focus as the others idled by.

"Well?" asked Mona, her patience growing thin.

"We're fucked." Said Lucy as she put her glove back on.

"How many?"

"I don't know, lots, scores. Waiting to gun us down the moment we get out."

"We _are_ fucked." Priest mumbled, "Wanna got out there anyway?"

"Don't feel like it."

"What's the time?"

"Six to six." Said Mona, "The cops are going to be surprised by the van in fifteen minutes. Give me the bag."

"Assuming they haven't deactivated it by now."

"I made it myself," said Mona, taking a grenade and a wire out of the bag, "Believe you me, they won't deactivate it with the time I had given them."

* * *

**One Hour Earlier**

"This feels strange." Said Gordon as he stood by himself at the scene of the crime, hearing the two beat officers outside discussing their plans for an outing that night. Gordon was by himself, but he was not alone. He had cultivated the sense to know when he would be around, lurking in the shadows, though it didn't stopped him from being surprised whenever he first spoke, announcing his presence.

"How so?" growled the Batman as he stepped slightly into the light.

"This is the first time you've ever called me to a scene that I wouldn't have come to otherwise."

Gordon looked at the three chalk outlines on the floor, the blood splatter and numbered cards indicating where the bullet casings had fallen.

"Three dead. Mother and her two sons, late teens. One gunshot to the cranium from what appears to be a thirty-eight. Nothing has been stolen. The father, the prime suspect, is nowhere to be found." Said Gordon, "What am I missing?"

"It's not the father. And this won't be the last."

"What makes you think that?"

"Believe me."

For once, Gordon did not believe the vigilante's words. What was before him looked like nothing more than the insanity any seasoned policeman in Gotham had come to get used to, a tragedy with little consequence.

"You'll have to do a little better than that." Said Gordon as he turned around, seeing no one, realizing he'd departed, leaving him with that slight tinge of annoyance.

Gordon walked out of the crime scene, acknowledging the policemen outside as they got back in. He walked down the stairs, wondering what were the Batman's real motives for calling him to a routine murder scene, making cryptic remarks about the nature of the crime without elaborating, during daytime no less.

Gordon exited the rundown apartment building, finding his driver having a look under the hood of his car.

"What's wrong, Merkel?"

"Sorry, sir, I don't know how this happened." Said Merkel, "The engine is dead."

"Can you fix it?"

"I been trying. Sorry."

"Okay, we'll take one of the squad cars."

"Eh... That's the thing, Sir. We can't, they're dead too. It's hard to believe."

Gordon looked at the two other squad cars at the scene, both engines silent with bewildered police officers standing by. An odd thought crossed Gordon's mind, a ludicrous suspicion that put his encounter with the Batman in a more sinister light, but made more sense of his visit.

"It is hard to believe." Mumbled the commissioner.

* * *

**Meanwhile**

Lieutenant David Cavanaugh was somewhat surprised at the unscheduled visit. He was on the roof by himself, fueling the Gotham City Police chopper, when he found none other than the police commissioner, flanked by two plain clothed police officers, a dark skinned man identified by Gordon as Lieutenant Taib from the Fifty-Fifth precinct and a young blond haired detective from the Forty-Ninth called Gallagher. The three had come for what he described as a surprise inspection, asking to tag along as he took the helicopter up on his patrol over the city.

Waiting several minutes for Sergeant Franks, his partner, who never showed up, the Lieutenant took off by himself, carrying the three policemen with him.

"So, Commissioner," started Cavanaugh, "If you don't mind me asking, how long do you expect this inspection to last?"

"We'll tell you when it's done." Said Gordon, "Just go about your patrol regularly. Tell me, at what point do you fly over downtown?"

"We can go over there straight away, Commissioner."

"That's not necessary."

"Well, It'll be around an hour from now."

"Excellent." Said Gordon with a smile.

* * *

**Now**

Josephine stood by the window, looking down at the street far bellow, at the spectacle surrounding the van parked across the street.

She spoke into the headset fixed to her ear,

"What's the situation on the street?"

_"The bomb is ten minutes away from detonating."_ Diana's voice said.

"And the situation downstairs?"

_"Strike team has been poised to attack, but the targets haven't come through. They request permission to go down after the intruders."_

"Permission granted."

* * *

The strike team gathered around the door, with over thirty assault rifles aimed at the door ready to release a hail of relentless lead. The leader of the strike team stood by the door, motioning for his team to stay back as two others prepared to break down the door with a battering ram.

"We should have gone in a long time ago." Said one of the men at the rear to his partner, "Jesus Christ, there's only four of them."

"They killed Mazzucchelli and Finnerty. I'm going to mowing them down." Said his partner, "Chief. Shoot to kill?"

"What d you think?"

"And the prisoner?"

"Unless she hits the ground and bursts out crying and begs for her life, consider her hostile."

With one swift blow from the battering ram, the door swung open. The three men at the door stood back for a moment before the leader stepped in, brandishing his rifle, calling out,

"Clear!"

The thirty men eagerly followed him through the door, each and every one of them with the exact same thought in mind; Kill.

They were half through the door when the delayed trigger activated and the hidden explosives detonated.

* * *

Diana stood nervously in her office, having just talked to one of only four people to survive the explosion downstairs. The situation had escalated dramatically.

Diana nervously put on her headset and pressed the button,

"M- Madam Director?" she said with a stammer.

_"Yes?"_ she heard Josephine calmly say, _"Called to tell me about the explosion bellow?"_

"It was a trap, madam director. Delayed explosives planted by the entrance that detonated while the strike team was going through."

_"Do we have enough people guarding the exit?"_

"Yes, ma'am."

_"Good, keep them where they are."_

"What should we do to stop them?"

_"Nothing."_

* * *

"Excellent play, miss Sax." Said Priest as he heard the explosions three floors down, crawling through the building's vent system.

"Thanks." Said Mona, "We're almost there."

"With all the noise you people are making, I would have thought the police would have gotten here by now." Said Lang.

"The building is soundproofed." Said Priest.

"Enough to block the sound of an explosion?"

"The building is very thoroughly soundproofed."

"Right."

"We're here." Said Lucy.

"Are you sure?" asked Mona as she stopped crawling.

"Yes. There are eight of them down there."

"Priest?"

"Yeah, Okay. I'll see you down there."

Priest stayed in place and watched while Mona lead the others ahead, once she had stopped, he turned his attention to the grate below him, knocked it off it's hinges with both his fists and swung down from under it.

From where she crouched, Lang could hear the sound of a neck being snapped, of someone being thrown against a wall. A moment after Priest had went down, Mona unlocked the grate bellow her, then dangled her upper body down with a gun in each hand.

There were seven men with their attention turned toward Priest, all but one with their back toward her. She shot that one first, burying a bullet between his eyes, before gunning down the rest in pairs in rapid orders.

With acrobatic grace, Mona swung down from the vent, landing on her feet. She eyed Priest with bewildered intrigued disgust as he fed on a guard's neck, his relish showing clearly in his fluttering eyes.

"Jude. Stop. The woman doesn't know about that charming part of you yet."

Priest fed for another moment before dropping the body, wiping the blood on his jacket's sleeve.

"All-clear."

* * *

"Three minutes." Said Bullock, standing by Gordon right behind the cordon and took a swig from a tiny bottle of airline whiskey, "Crap day to be a cop. Not to say there's any other type of days for a cop in Gotham."

Gordon scratched his forehead, watching up the street as the remote-controlled bomb disposal robot sprayed the van with liquid nitrogen in an attempt to delay the explosion.

High above and a few blocks away, a Police Helicopter approached.

* * *

"Before you were arrested, you were gathering evidence of corruption relating to Regan McNeil's campaign." said Mona, "These people who kidnapped you are the ones who stand to gain if she is elected."

"And who are you people? Who do the minutemen work for?" asked Lang.

"The opposition." Said Mona as the elevator pinged upon its arrival.

The elevator doors parted, the iron box, bright and sleek, felt like a welcoming sanctuary. Lang was the first to enter, followed by Kroenen.

That was when the shot rang out. The mirror inside the elevator shattered, the shotgun's handle in Priest's hands broke apart and fell to the ground, and Priest's severed fingers flew off of his hand, turning to ash before they hit the ground.

Mona took no time to react. She pushed Lucy in with one hand, while the other reached into her holster for a gun as she turned around, all in a split second. And then the second shot rang out.

Blood splattered onto Lang's face as Mona fell into the elevator, her hand gripping her holstered gun, bleeding from the shoulder from a spot under a small gap in her Kevlar. Unbridled horror filled Lang and Lucy heart as they watched .

Priest gripped his hand, wondering why it hurt so badly, why unlike any bullet he'd taken today, this one burned like the fires of hell.

He looked up to see someone standing up the hall, a tall feminine figure holding up a silver revolver. Priest got up to his knees, standing in the elevator's opening.

He kicked the bag of guns and explosives into the elevator before the third shot was fired. 'Not the heart' Priest thought to himself as abruptly straightened up as well as he could, hitting the elevator button.

The bullet hit him in the stomach. He cried out in pain and anger as crouched.

"You!" Priest growled as he reached for what remained of his shotgun.

Josephine smirked with grim satisfaction as she took two steps closer, aiming carefully while the elevator doors closed, when all of a sudden Priest mustered the speed and strength to hurl the damaged weapon at her.

She ducked out of the way and allowed the shotgun to miss her before attempting to take aim. It cost her half a second that would prove to be decisive. Priest was coming straight at her, running with increasing speed.

Josephine pulled the trigger. Priest felt the bullet passing through his thigh, and it burned as much as the other two. Those were not just any bullets she was shooting him with, they were silver bullets, and they hurt more than a normal bullet would hurt a normal man.

It also drove him blind with rage and a lust for violence more than any bullet could to anyone.

Mina never much preferred to use guns, despite having been trained in marksmanship to considerable skill by Tom Sawyer in the years they spent together following Henry's demise. She was never too good with a fast moving target. She took aim for a fourth and fired.

Priest evaded the bullet completely, moving toward the wall and kicking it, flipping through the air as he continued his dash.

"**I know your name, you bitch! I know your name!**"

That was when Mina remembered what it was to panic. For a split second, she entertained the thought that she might have underestimated the intruders before she let the thought go and focused on stopping Priest. In one last desperate attempt Mona fired her last bullet with Priest right in front of her. It had to stop him. It had to.

Priest felt the bullet burn its way through his bone and flesh, shooting out of his back, missing his heart with half an inch.

Mina instinctively pulled the trigger as Priest slammed into her, burying his shoulder into her chest, surrounding her with his arms and lifting her with painful speed off the ground, carrying her with him as he crossed a few dozen feet before crashing through a wall-high window.

* * *

**Next Chapter**

Splat.

R&R.


	41. Minutemen

**Now**

_Gotham City_

There are literally dozens of vampire races, varying in strengths, vulnerabilities and population. Some fly, others don't. Some are allergic to garlic, others aren't. Some number in several thousand, others in a few million, and sometimes a species may consist of a single specimen.

The LaMagrans, the descendants of the Assyrian King Dagon, were endowed with amazing regenerative abilities, the ability to climb the smoothest walls as if they stalked the ground and great strength. At one point these numbered in thousands, an influential caste with clout in government and society, but were whittled down to a handful by a specifically-targeted, bio-engineered plague. These vampires could be killed by silver through the brain or the heart, severe mutilation, garlic or direct sunlight.

The Draculian vampires, the progeny of Prince Vlad Tapesh of Walachia, were never in great abundance. As a matter of fact there has been only one for the past hundred years, yet they were the most powerful species. During the daytime they were normal beings capable of venturing out into the sun, thought not perishable. Come nighttime, they were capable of shape shifting, flight, regeneration at a faster space than the LaMagrans and unparalleled power.

At this particular moment, one of the very last LaMagran vampires was locked in a fatal embrace with the very last Drculian vampire. Priest and Mina were plummeting from six stories high, and despite the fact that Mina was the more powerful being, Priest had the advantage for one simple reason;

The sun still reigned outside.

Priest's skin ached and itched all over, but he did not burn for being in the shadow of the surrounding buildings. He fought back the pain, holding on to Josephine, his bony finger tips digging into her flank, keeping her under him as the streets of Gotham came racing to meet them.

Mina had never fallen like this in her life, not in a weakened state such as the one she was in. And although she knew that no fall, no matter from which height could kill her, she knew and feared the pain that would come. Her last thought before impact was a passing realization that on top of the fall itself, her assailant was about to use her to break his own fall.

They sudden stop came as they crashed into a Bentley parked in front of the Novick building, collapsing the roof inward.

Neither moved for a few moments before Priest finally released his grasp, and then pushed himself up with a groan. The fall hurt him as well, and with silver burning its way through four spots of his body, he felt immense pain.

Priest looked down at Josephine, a halo of auburn hair surrounded a blood smeared face. She was unconscious and showed the full brunt of the fall.

"Was that as god for you as it was for me?" Growled Priest as he rolled away, "Next time, you get to be on top."

* * *

'Crap day to be a cop in Gotham.' Was what Detective Bullock said, and Commissioner Gordon had come to believe in during the past fifteen minutes.

For the better part on an hour, the bomb disposal unit had failed to deactivate the impeccable bomb parked in the middle of the city block. Having caught on to what was going to happen early on, they had managed to evacuate the city block, a move that would cost the city millions of dollars from business lost, regardless of whether or not the bomb went off, but it would spare thousands of lives. And so it was, Gotham was seconds away from being the site of a successful terrorist attack.

And that was when all the policemen standing behind the cordon saw two bodies fly out of a window and come crashing down onto a parked car.

The cigar fell from Bullock's lips. The uniformed policemen exchanged bewildered looks as Gordon squinted his eyes, to make sure he could see the wreked car up ahead.

"What the hell was that?" wondered the Commissioner aloud.

"Erm.."

"I thought we evacuated the whole goddamn block!" said Gordon as he tried to get past the barricade. Bullock was quick to grab him by the shoulders, and another policeman joined in the effort to restrain him.

"For christ's sake, Jim! They're already dead! The bomb'll blow any second now."

Gordon persisted in his attempt, but quickly relented. Bullock let go of him and everyone waited for the bomb to blow, but nothing happened.

A minute passed while nothing happened, and the fretful anticipation was replaced by confusion.

"What's going on?" asked Gordon the bomb disposal unit leader.

"I…I don't know, sir." Said the specialist, "The clock reached zero forty seconds ago."

"Then why the hell didn't the bomb go off?" asked Bullock.

"I don't know, maybe it's a delayed explosion."

"A delayed explosion? With a timed bomb?"

The specialist was at a loss for what to say. There was unrest in the crowd, they had prepared themselves for something horrible, and did not know how to react to a lack of it.

"Clear a way for me." Said Gordon and got into a patrol car. The policemen parted the barricade as Bullock got into the passenger seat.

The drive felt a million years long. Once they arrived at where the van was parked, Gordon and Bullock got out of the car, leaving the engine running. They took a peak into the van, careful not to touch it. The timer had reached zero.

"Well, that was a lucky break." Mumbled Bullock, "Guess they didn't wire the timer right, huh?"

Gordon didn't respond. He went to the back of the van and reached for the handle.

"Jim, Wait!" cried Bullock as he failed to stop the commissioner. The backdoor of the van opened to no results.

"The detonator isn't even armed." Said Gordon, looking with awe at the impressively complex wiring going in and out of the dozens of bricks of plastic explosives. So much power for destruction, rendered inert by a simple oversight.

And then something else caught his attention as Bullock stood to his side, a little brown powder on the matting. He touched it with his finger and raised it to his nose, took a whiff, then cautiously tasted it.

"What is it?"

With continued disregard for the risks he was taking, Gordon ripped one of the bricks out of place, then tore the cardboard wrapping off. The brown powder spilled onto the asphalt, Gordon dropped the brick.

"Alright, what's going on?"

"It's brown sugar." Mumbled Gordon.

"What?"

Gordon ran across the street toward the ruined Bently. He found a single body, a siren haired woman of her thirties in a dark steel green suit. Her body was shattered, one of her legs was bent in a way that it shouldn't.

"Oh, Jesus…." Muttered Bullock, "Where's the other one?"

"_nnnghhgh…_"

Bullock's jaw dropped at the unexpected sign of life. Gordon took his radio off of his belt and raised it to his mouth, pressing the button,

"I need an ambulance over here. We have one injured woman in serious condition."

_"What abut the bomb, sir?"_

"There is no bomb. Now get me that ambulance."

* * *

"What the hell?" muttered Lieutenant Cavanaugh as he spotted what had happened of that area of downtown Gotham, an entire city block evacuated and barricaded. He reached for the radio to put in a call for police headquarters. Speaking his call sign and requesting to inquire as to what was happening.

"Put down the Radio, Lieutenant." Said the 'Commissioner' as he sat next to him in the cockpit."

"Sir, there's something serious going. You should be down there!"

"No, I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be." Said 'Gordon', "Put down that radio, it's useless, it has been dead since the moment we got on."

As Cavanaugh wondered what had gotten into the commissioner, there was a pair of metallic clicks. He looked over his shoulder to see the two other passengers holding one gun each, aimed at his head.

"Jesus… Who the hell are you people?"

"We're not people who want to kill you, but we do a lot of things we don't want to."

"What do you want?"

"Get us as close to the Novick Building as you can."

* * *

"Is… Is she dead?" asked Lana, looking down at Mona's motionless figure that lay on the elevator floor amid shards of shattered mirrors, as Lucy frankly pressed the elevator button. The elevator started ascended, the smooth sound was interrupted by a distant gunshot in the distance.

Mona opened her eyes slowly.

"Guess not."

"Mona! Are you alright?"

"No…" Mona said painfully, "The bullet… got me."

"Oh, god..."

"The bag… There's a plastic bottle."

Lucy rummaged through the bag as quick as she could, to find a small white and red plastic bottle labeled "Interfectum 600 mgs". Lucy opened it and tipped it toward her palm, trying to get a few pills out. Mona slapped Lucy's palm aside, knocking the pals away and took the bottle, then poured its contents generously into her mouth.

Mona got up to her knees with a groan and brushed the shards out of her hair, the painkillers were beginning to take effect.

"Where's Priest?" Mona growled as she took an assault rifle fitted with a grenade launcher out of the bag.

"He stayed behind."

"We have to get back to him."

"Are you kidding?" asked Lang, "He's got to be dead by now."

"You don't know Priest." Said Mona as she stuffed a piece of cloth under her vest over the bullet's entry wound to control the bleeding. As she looked casually at the elevator wall where there once was a mirror, something caught her attention. It was the bullet that was fired first that had torn Priest's hand to pieces and went on to strike the mirror and get lodged in the metal wall.

Mona pried the bullet out of the wall with her knife, and then inspected it in her palm.

"What is it?"

"Silver." Answered Mona, her voice filled a mix of sorrow, disappointment and rage, "Priest is-"

The elevator shook as in a seizure, and then came to a scratching halt.

The three women inside clung to the walls, and in a brief moment of silence that followed, Lang was about to inquire the obvious, and wonder why the elevator had stopped, but before she could, the elevator started moving again, in the wrong direction.

"What's happening?" asked Lang in panic as the elevator descended faster than it should. It was not the smooth, descent of a normally functioning elevator, but an unrelenting drop through the elevator sharp, accelerating with no bound toward the hard, merciless bottom.

"Grab onto Kroenen, both of you." Commanded Mona and then fired at the elevator's glass roof, shattering it. She flung her Machine gun's strap over her shoulder and then searched the bag with absolute clam, finally finding what she wanted.

Mona wrapped an arm around Kroenen, who in turn hung on to both Lucy and Lang, and Mona aimed the chrome plated gun in her hand up and as straight a she could before pulling the trigger.

A magnetic grapple traveled up the length of the elevator shaft as the elevator dropped, trailed by a thin yet powerful cable, finally clinging to the very top.

The elevator continued it's drop while the four remained in place. The sudden physical strain was hell on Mona's already injured arm, and she felt her grip loosening on Kroenen's torso.

"Christ! We're going to die!"

As the painkillers started doing their work, Mona managed to tighten her grip, and with a second pull on the trigger the built in motor started pulling them upward.

"We're going to die!"

"This grappling wire has never been tested for more than fur-fifty pounds." Mona said, her vision blurring, "That's fifty pounds more than our combined weight. It could snap at any second, but say one more word and I swear to god I'll drop you."

* * *

Priest staggered through the sewers. He'd taken refuge in them following his earlier stunt, getting in through a manhole under the Bentley he'd landed on. The thrill of getting even with Josephine was gone, the pain in his hand, thigh, chest and belly remained. The silver inflicted wounds would take longer than usual to heal.

Priest dropped to his knees, folded his jacket and lodged it between his teeth. Priest stabbed his hand with his knife, scraping at the silver burned flesh. He bit down hard and winced, feeling relief as the acid burin-like sensation was replaced with conventional pain. As soon as he was done with it, he did it again to the wound in his thigh, a process twice as painful, but nothing compared to what came last.

The sewers echoed with his groans as he drove the knife into his stomach, the pain was unbearable. He pulled the jacket from his mouth, dropped to his hands and emptied out his stomach onto an unsuspecting rat. Amid the fresh blood, raw meat and Mexican chili was a silver bullet.

Priest felt good to be rid of it, but it wasn't god enough. Aside from the wound resulting from the bullet that only barely missed his heart, which could not be treated and had to be allowed to heal on its own, there was something else on his mind.

Mona was dead.

Somberly getting up and continuing his march, Priest reached into his pocket and took out a cell phone.

He dialed a number and held the phone to his ear, waiting.

_"Priest?"_

"Sayid. I'm out of the building."

_" I can't hear you. Are you out of the building?"_

"Yes. Yes. Yes."

_"Are the rest with you?"_

"Sayid, my battery is about to die. I'm alone. Can you pick me up?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Sayid?"

_"Can you make it to the top of the Aparo building?"_

"Yes."

_"We'll pick you up there. Listen, where are the rest?"_

"They're dead."

_"Priest, speak louder, I have no idea what you just said."_

"They're dead." Priest mumbled as he tossed the cell phone into the water and walked away, while Sayid still spoke on the other line.

_"What happened? Priest, what happened to the others?"_

* * *

A bullet grazed Mona's inner thigh as she shot her way across the top floor, while Kroenen did fast work of everyone trying to get the drop no her. Lucy and Lana Lang followed a distance behind, staying out of the crossfire as per her order.

Mona shot a single round into the shooter's head at twenty feet distance, and then pulled the lower trigger, firing a grenade at the gate at the end of the hall, blowing it to bits. Mona hi behind a column, loading the assault rifle with her last clip.

Perhaps it was the adrenaline, or the belief that a good friend of hers was dead, or perhaps it was the silver bullet that woke something in her. But to every last guard that crossed her path, she seemed an unstoppable juggernaut, a vengeful spirit unrelenting in her wrath.

Mona stepped out of her hiding spot, armed again. She gunned down the two men that came through the destroyed gate before dashing straight to it. It led to a dimly lit stairway, which lead to the roof.

Once at the top, Mona kicked the door open, not even stopping to see who was there, and that was a mistake. The butt of a rifle was smashed into her face, she was knocked off her feet and her rifle flew away from her hand.

The roof guard wasn't a man to take chances, as soon her back hit the ground, he aimed his own shotgun right at her head and pulled the trigger.

Mona went momentarily deaf with the sound of the shotgun pellets passing her by ear and hitting the ground as she got out of the way. A fragment of concrete cut her cheek.

As her ears rang, Mona produced her knife and ram it through the guard's boot, pinning his foot to the ground, then kicked him in the knee knocking him down. Before his head even hit the ground, Mona caught him by the neck and gave it a quick snap.

It was over. This was the end of the line. Kroenen, Lucy and Lang joined her on the roof. Lucy said something that Mona could not hear.

"Before you say anything. I can't hear you!" Mona yelled.

Lucy kept shouting something at her, faster than she could read her lips.

"I. CAN'T. HEAR. YOUUUUU!"

Lucy started pointing behind her, so Mona turned around, and as sure as the bullet hole in her shoulder, the Gotham Police Helicopter was flying over edge. Shaun and Sayid tossed a rope ladder over the side, while O'Brien, disguised into the appearance of Commissioner Gordon, motioned for them to climb up.

"Lang!" yelled Mona, "You go first."

Lang did not need to be tolled twice, she eagerly climbed the rope as fast as she could, allowing Sayid and Shaun to help her up.

One by one, each climbed in, Mona getting in last. Lieutenant Cavanaugh was in utter horror as he saw the dubious characters climb in.

As Cavanaugh flew away in the direction he was instructed to fly toward, Lucy got behind his seat, and without any warning, placed both palms on his cheeks.

"Lady, what are you doing? Get your hands off of me!"

Her touch seemed to the Lieutenant as hot as a frying pan, memories raced through his mind, of his time in the military flight school, of flying over the Iraq during Desert Storm, of patrolling the skies of Gotham for the past eleven years. The world got darker and quieter, his heart raced as the flood of memories grew too powerful for him to withstand, and he drifted off to a coma.

"Eel, help me with this poor bastard." Said Lucy, loosing her light German accent and picking up a Jersey drawl, similar to Cavanaugh's accent.

O'Brien's unbuckled Cavanaugh as Lucy took over the wheel, and pulled him off the pilot's seat and placed him in the back while Lucy took over piloting the helicopter.

"Alright." Said Lang, "That's just weird. I want answer and I want them-"

Shaun seized Lang by the shoulders and pushed her onto the ground, pinning her under his body and placing a hand over her mouth while Sayid held her legs firmly.

Lang's eyes widened with renewed panic as she saw Mona loading a syringe

Lang tried to break fry as Mona pulled her arm to the side. Shaun simply shifted his weight to further restrain her movement. Lang tried to scream, but nothing could stop Mona from sticking the needle into her arm and pressing down the plunger.

The effect was instant. Lang went limp, drifting into a deep sleep.

"Christ, she's annoying." Muttered Shaun as he got off. He and Sayid pulled her to the corner and laid her comfortably.

"You have no idea," said Lucy.

In the front, O'Brien took off his toupee, glasses and fake moustache. He removed his necktie and unbuttoned his collar, all as his features stretched and shifted, growing younger, loosing Commissioner Gordon's likeness and regaining his own.

"Alright," said Lucy with glee, "Baltimore, here we come!"

"Wait," said Sayid, "You have to fly over the Aparo building first."

"Why?" asked Mona, "What's in the Aparo building?"

* * *

Priest stood in the on the roof, wearing a hooded jacket he'd lifted from an office store on his way up, watching the helicopter as it huvvered above, waiting for the rope ladder to drop.

The rope ladder wasn't what dropped; at least it wasn't the first to drop. A body was pushed over the side. Priest instinctively caught it. It was alive. It was the body of a man of fifty in a police uniform; his badge read "Lt. Cavanaugh".

The rope ladder dropped next. Priest lay the body on the roof, and then started climbing.

"Priest," said Mona as she helped him in, "You're alive!"

"Likewise." Said Priest, hiding his gladness.

"What, did you think I was dead?"

"Yeah! I cried, and vowed revenge, and everything!"

"Hey!" called Lucy, "I'm alive too, jackass!"

"Yes, you are!" said Priest, then acknowledged the people he knew were still alive, "Boys, good to see you."

"Hello."

"What's with the accent?" asked Priest.

"Heh. It'll fade away when the piloting experience does." Said Mona, "What happened to you?"

"Heh... You'll never believe who I threw out of a window..."

* * *

For everyone who was expecting an epic Mina Jekyll/Judas Priest slugfest, I'm sorry. you'll have to wait longer. Anyway, Hope you liked it, hope the last bit wasn't too much like an '80s movie.

R&R.

**Next Chapter**

The minutemen's actions makes a lot of people unhappy, both in the League and in the opposition.


	42. Chapter 42

**Now**

_Basin City, Nevada_

"Well, that's something you don't see everyday." Mumbled O'Brien as he tried to look away from what he saw and continue walking, resisting the urge to regurgitate.

Priest looked over to where O'Brien had been looking, to see a dead body of withered old man in a leather duster, laying in a pool his own blood in vomit, a knife sticking out of his back. The whole spectacle on the steps of a police station. He looked away himself as the two men continued walking down the street as police sirens continued their infinite crescendo in the distance.

"We shoulda stayed in Baltimore." Said O'Brien, "Basin City makes Baltimore look like Miami."

"I hate Miami. And don't call it Basin City," said Priest, "People'll know were tourists. Sin City, that's what you all it."

"Jesus, what is up with this town?"

"Ha! Tell me about it. If cities were women then this one would be a drama queen."

Priest raised the beer in the paper bag he held to his lips and took a large gulp.

"Gotham would naturally be a madam."

"Do Sheikh and Nemo know about what we did?"

"Mona told them this morning. Apparently they already knew."

"How?"

"Beats the hell out of me. They might have heard about our fake terrorist plot."

"That reminds me, I saw the news earlier and Gotham Police suspect it's the work of The Joker."

"Isn't he locked up?"

"Apparently that hasn't stopped him before. It's kinda funny, though. The Joker's lawyer read a statement for the press and he said something like 'I didn't do it, but whoever did is a badass'. I never thought I was going to d something that would earn the admiration of a psycho killer."

"No one ever does."

"Kind of cool, though."

O'Brien sighed as a police car came wailing by.

"He's gonna super-pissed. Sheikh, not the Joker."

"Buddy, you ain't kidding."

Priest tossed the empty bottle into a dumpster and the two kept on walking down Dylan street.

"So what kind of woman would Boston be?"

"I don't know, probably a redhead."

* * *

**Last Night**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

Mandy Hughes walked into a luxury private room in the newly rebuilt Gotham General Hospital, holding a medium sized handbag. The TV was turned on, a Gotham Cable News reporter was reporting from Downtown Gotham on the dumbfounding events of the afternoon.

Mandy placed the handbag on a chair by the neatly made bed as she looked around, looking for the room's occupant who was nowhere to be seen.

Josephine exited from bathroom, fully healed, tightly wrapping her bathrobe arund her waist.

"I came as soon as I could. Are you…"

"I'm fine." Said Josephine coldly, "Where were you today?"

Mandy looked down, disappointed at her lover's demeanor.

"I… I was going to come in a little bit later."

"You picked one hell for it."

"Yeah, well…I'm sorry. I brought you a fresh change of clothes."

"Thanks." Mutter Josephine as she slid the curtain around the hospital bed.

"What have we got so far?"

"Whoever hit us-"

"They were the opposition's elite unit."

"Well, they escaped by a police helicopter. The co-pilot's partner was found tied up in a supply closet in police headquarters, the pilot was last seen taking off with police commissioner Gordon and two unidentified police officers. The commissioner was at the same town stranded across town, waiting for a ride.

"Intelligence is examining the surveillance footage of the intruders, trying to identify who they were."

"The one who threw me out a window is Judas Priest, the same man who ID'd me last year. Something tells me the rest will be other operatives that escaped when we tried to purge them." Said Josephine as she stepped out from behind the curtain, fully dressed and her hair tied back, "How many men did we loose?"

"Sixty four." Said Mandy uneasily, "Um… Diana is pulling in new recruits, and we we're receiving reinforcements from New York."

"New York?" asked Josephine, her voice calm, but still registering her outrage.

Mandy was at a complete loss for words, she simply turned around and looked out the window.

"Have them dismissed."

"This isn't the time to refuse my help, Josephine."

Both Josephine and Mandy turned around to look toward the room's doorway, where Felix Leiter stood, looking gloomy.

"Miss Hughes, would you mind giving us the room?"

Mandy looked to Josephine who gave her a nod, she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"Came to gloat?" asked Josephine.

Leiter didn't say anything at first; he sat down on an armchair, and said with a sullen voie,

"I'd heard that you were paralyzed."

"That was two hours ago."

"What was it like?"

A long pause followed, during which Mina simply stared Leiter in the eyes, sizing him up.

"I felt my spine shatter, from one end to the other." Josephine said, "My broken ribs pierced my lungs. I ruptured my spleen…… I was conscious for all of it. How do you think it felt?"

Leiter looked down with his eyes closed, rubbing the top of his nose where his eyes came close.

"What do you want, Felix?"

Leiter stood up to look Josephine straight in the eye.

"I know you hate my guts, Wilhelmina. And you know I never had any love for you, but that doesn't mean I thought you were unfit or undeserving of you position."

"Wow, that's all I've ever hoped to hear before I died."

"I'm not going to tell you that this could have all been avoided if you'da played ball from the beginning. I'm not going to say that I didn't screw you over when I convinced McNeil to come over to my side. We're in a bit of a pickle, Josephine. The future of Phoenix, the future of the League is in the balance. This situation must and will be contained. And the only way we can do that is together."

"Is that so? We both know Bond is going to want to handle this situation differently."

"What James doesn't know isn't going to hurt him."

Josephine was genuinely surprised.

"You want to keep him in the dark?"

"He'll eventually find out, there's no stopping that. We just have to keep a lid on it until Lana Lang is dead or in custody, preferably the first."

"Alright. So what do you suggest?"

"You were right all along, we should have devoted more resources toward breaking the opposition, and that's what we'll do straight away, starting with this special unit of theirs."

Leiter turned around and opened the door, and as he stepped out he looked back and said,

"I'll be in touch."

* * *

**A Few Hours Later**

_The Yellow Submarine_

"Hello, Nemo."

Nemo hadn't noticed that the screen had blinked on and displayed Wayne image, sitting against a backdrop of dark granite walls. Nemo removed his reading glasses and set them down on his desk, amid printed out intelligence reports received from four cities and electronic circuitry.

"Bruce. Hello. I trust you're in rude health?"

Wayne reclined back in his sear, looking and sounding in a foul mood.

"We need to talk."

"Of course. What would you like to talk about?"

"You."

"Me?"

"The opposition."

"Oh, is there anything you've discovered?"

"That's one way of putting it. This has more to do with the minutemen."

"What about them?"

"Earlier today, they came to me for help. They had a plan, you see. I know about the security convoy they were planning on hitting-"

"Yes. The target wasn't pres-"

"Do. Not interrupt me." Wayne said with restrained anger, "They came asking for my help, persuaded me into aiding them. Of what I know the plan was successful. Their plan was to infiltrate the Novick building, abduct the prisoner you're interested in and then get out of Gotham."

"What?" asked Nemo is shock.

"I don't know if you've heard of what transpired today in Gotham, but I'm sure you will soon enough, and know that it was all the work of your people.

"Captain, every since we got back in touch, I allowed two criminals into my house and I've allowed them to walk away. And now, I have lied to a dear friend, an ally. I have stood aside as I allowed my city to wallow in fear and despair, all for as a grotesque ruse, for _your_ people.

"You've saved my life once, Captain. I won't ever forget that, but I won't allow it to delude me anymore. I won't allow it to be what compels me to do what I know is wrong. We've gone too far."

"Bruce…"

"Your people said they were going to head to Baltimore, and from there to somewhere else safe. And now, I'm going to turn this laptop off, then take a sledge hammer to it till there is nothing left.

"Don't ever call me again."

Wayne's image disappeared, and a message flashed on the screen regarding the general details of the communication. Nemo did not pay attention to it; he was still amazed with what he'd heard.

Finally, coming to himself, Nemo tapped a keyboard, establishing a new connection and within a minute, Naif Al-Sheikh's image appeared on the screen.

"We have a situation."

* * *

With Batman pulling out and Leiter and Josephine teaming up to take the fight to the opposition, the minutemen will be in for an interesting period. **Next Chapter** sees Josephine put together a small detail with a specific purpose, while Nemo and Al-Sheikh arrive at Sin City to give the minutemen a talking to.

R&R


	43. Way Down in the Hole

**Now**

_Basin City, Nevada_

"I'll take the fall."

"Don't be stupider than usual, Priest." Said Mona as she sipped a cold beer as the minutemen sat in the living room of a rundown house they'd rented on the edge of the red lights district known as Old Town.

"We all agreed to do this. And don't forget that it was my idea."

"I have hypothetical question, guys." Said O'Brien, "Would Sheikh fire us?"

"Unlikely."

"Would he fire Priest?"

Priest looked to O'Brien with confusion.

"I mean, he wouldn't would he? You're our biggest button man."

"If you're trying to imply that Priest should take the fall, you stop it right now."

"Hey, some of us are just filler anyway." Said O'Brien, "You think they would can me just to make an example?"

"Whatever. Where's Lang?"

"Pouting." Said Shaun, "She's still a bit iffed."

"She's acting like she's the only who was ever drugged and abducted to Sin City."

"Is that supposed to be funny?"

"You want to laugh? Laugh. Otherwise, leave me alone."

"They're here." Said Lucy as she stepped away from the window, "They just pulled up outside."

"Alright. We have nothing to worry about," said Mona, "This didn't cost us anything and we got what we needed. So we'll just say the truth."

A minute passed slowly till Nemo and Al-Sheikh came bursting through the door.

"Is she here?" asked Al-Sheikh calmly.

"Yeah, she's in-"

"Good. Sax, Priest, Kitchen. Everyone else, get out."

The minutemen exchanged a look before Sayid headed to the door, followed by O'Brien, Shaun and Lucy.

* * *

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"A crook from Southie, a z-list celebrity, a bartender, a nazi…. What kind of crack-team is this?"

"The kind that successfully infiltrated this building." Said Josephine without looking up from the a report in her hands. Mandy sighed and looked down.

"What I meant is that since we now know what we're dealing with, we don't need to go outside the company to recruit anybody."

"You have your orders, miss Hughes."

"Don't call me Miss Hughes, don't pretend like I'm not…. ."

Mandy sighed.

"Are you just going along with Leiter to… I don't know, share the heat when the Chairman finds out about this?"

"That's precisely what I'm doing." Said Josephine, "Who is Leiter sending as his representative?"

"He wanted to send Woolfwood, but knew the issues we have with him. He said he wont press the matter if we have a problem with it."

"Inform him that we do have a problem."

"Alright."

* * *

**Now**

_Basin City_

Al-Sheikh leaned against the doorframe, surveying the others in silence. Mona looked nervously at Nemo, who in turn stared directly at Priest, who seemed generally unconcerned as he and watched the smoke from Al-Sheikh's cigarette as it twisted and moved.

"Who's bright idea was it?" asked Nemo emotionlessly.

"Captain," started Mona, "Sir, we-"

"Mine."

Mona rolled her eyes as Priest went on and said, "It was my plan."

"Miss Sax?" said Al-Sheikh.

"He's lying."

"No, I'm not-"

"I suggested it; we all made the decision to go through with it."

"You know, I wouldn't be too eager to take credit for that spectacle of sheer stupidity." Said Nemo, "Now, obviously, one is lying, and I'm at a loss for who it is. On one hand, this is the lunacy I expect from you, Priest. But on the other hand, I don't see how the rest could be persuaded to follow your lead."

"I only had to persuade one."

"Oh, really?"

"Priest, for Christ's sake! Enough." Said Mona.

"Lucy."

"I beg your pardon?"

"All I had to do was convince our resident psychic this was the right thing to do. With her help, swaying the rest was simple."

"Bullshit." Said Al-Sheikh as he stepped closer to Priest and put out his cigarette on the kitchen table, "Maybe you're both covering something, maybe Miss Sax is telling the truth. You want the blame? Alright, consider yourself held accountable."

"Oh. Good."

"You're out." Said Nemo.

Priest's went from indifference to visible shock, his jaw dropped and his fingers stopped drumming on the kitchen table.

"Shit."

"What do you mean he's out?"

"Your operation was not authorized by myself, Mr. Al-Sheikh or any of the Captains."

"You're kidding!" Priest barked.

"Excuse me, I feel like I should point this out." Said Mona, "Didn't we have an okay to attack a security convoy the same day?"

"It's not the same. This is a cold war." Said Al-Sheikh calmly, "We're supposed to do things a certain way to keep it from escalating into an all-out-war. We attack the league, but not in their stronghold. Ever."

"Look, we all made it out in one piece!" Priest said, "We have the one person who can bring down McNeil in the other room!"

"But you've cost us one of our top operatives."

"Who?"

"Our man in Gotham didn't take too well to the part he played in your plot."

"Is it my fault your boy didn't have the stomach to do what had to be done?"

"You launched an attack on a main branch of the League!" shouted Nemo, "You engineered a terrorist threat! Impersonated the city's police commissioner! Doesn't any of that strike you as something we should have known about beforehand?"

Priest sighed.

"You forgot about the part where I threw the branch director out of a window."

"Way to go, Priest.That'll get 'em real mad." said O'Brien as he sat in the car's passenger seat, listening alongside Lucy, Shaun and Sayid to the static ridden transmission received on the car's radio, coming from a bug Sayid had planted inside the house.

"Priest is stupid." Said Lucy as she sat in the back, "Doesn't he realize it's my ass on the line if they believe his story?"

_"You did what?"_

--

"…That settles it, then." Said Nemo, "If this doesn't put us in a state of active war with the League, nothing ever will."

"Oh, come on!" Priest barked, "Nemo, seriously! There was a day I was born and it wasn't yesterday. Are you going to say we were'nt already in a state of active war with the League?"

"No, we weren't."

"Well, seeing as how you're so sure, I dare you to go out there and tell it to Shaun, tell him that in the grander scheme of things, everything that happened to him was of little consequence. I dare you!"

"Is that what it was all about, Priest?" asked Al-Sheikh, "Easing your conscience through petty revenge? Did throwing Wilhelmina Jekyll out of a window make you feel redeemed?"

"I don't give a rat's ass about redemption."

"Did it all help sleep at night?"

Priest's face was unchanged for a few moments, before a smirk spread across his lips.

"Almost. Maybe next time I'll get to kick Bond in the balls or something, that oughta do the trick."

--

"I know about the listening device you used," said Al-Sheikh, facing five of the minutemen, "So I'm going to assume you're already caught up. Lana Lang is being escorted to the city docks by Mr. Priest, that's where she will board the Yellow Submarine. You're not going to be seeing him for some time. As for the rest of you, you are to head there as soon as I leave."

"Where are we going?" asked Shaun.

"Away from the States for some time, till I can make arrangements."

"What kind of arrangements?"

"For security measures, you may not know that until you're aboard the Yellow Submarine."

"What about Priest?" asked Sayid, "Will he be returning?"

There was a long pause before Al-Sheikh said,

"Perhaps."

"What kind of answer is that?" asked Mona, leaning against the window frame, "Is he or isn't he?"

"Mr. Priest has some important work to do in Eastern Europe. His returns depends on him performing his assignments, and surviving them."

"Exactly what did you send him to do?"

Al-Sheikh looked into Mona's eyes in silence and then turned to the door, picking his suit jacket off of the coat rack and put it on.

"I'm heading home. You've done good work, all of you."

* * *

**Next Chapter**

Life on the Yellow Submarine. Deep Throat. Priest in Russia.

R&R.


	44. Chapter 44

**Yesterday**

_Basin City, Nevada_

"They didn't torture me. Well, they did, slapped me around a lot, threatened to kill my family, but I don't have any. But they didn't water board me or anything."

Like everything that had happened in the last month, from her discoveries regarding Senator McNeil to her dubious incarceration and subsequent violent liberation, Lana Lang was having a hard time adjusting to the newest in a series of odd characters she'd come to meet.

"Did you talk?" asked Nemo.

"I didn't have anything to talk about." Said Lana, "I made sure of that beforehand. They hooked me up to a polygraph and I passed."

"How?"

"I stashed the evidence so well that no even I know where it is. After that they left me alone, days passed with no contact with them, except for a couple of crappy tuna sandwiches a day."

"What kind of compromising evidence do you have?"

"The career damning kind." Said Lana.

"And you don't know where they are?"

"Somewhere safe. I just don't know where."

"But you'll be able to track them down, should you choose to."

"I'm not telling you."

"We're on your side, Miss Lang." said Al-Sheikh, "You need to trust us."

"Trust you?" asked Lana, "I don't even know who you are. All I know is that your people freed me from a bunch of other people I don't know about, and they drugged me and took me to this shithole of a city.

"None of them let me out of the house and they won't answer any of my questions. I look at you people and I see three Arabs and a German woman, now forgive me for not being politically correct but that doesn't sound like a bunch of people I'm going to trust."

"I'm Indian." Said Nemo, "The people who previously held you captive are part of a conglomerate of political lobbies and corporations trying to land a lacky in the white house to do things their way.

"Quite simply, we're the competing entity. We're trying to complicate their plans as much as possible, so McNeil's campaign running into trouble is in our best interest."

"Do you expect me to believe any of that?"

"If your findings are anywhere near as damning as you claim they are, you definitely would." Said Al-Sheikh, "In complete honesty, our people wouldn't have bothered freeing you if it was half as hard and you were completely useless. But here we are, not your friends, but rather the enemies of your enemies' friends."

Lana crossed her legs as she leaned back in the battered arm chair, sizing up the two men standing in her room, trying to judge their metal.

"Let's assume I believe you, which I don't, I still wouldn't just hand you the evidence. Just let me go; let me walk out that door and in two weeks McNeil will be making Nixon look like a guy who got caught stealing office supplies."

"You'd no doubt be arrested halfway before getting to Kansas. And even if you did, you have to understand that the other side will spare no effort in stopping that story from being published, they no doubt have your paper under watch, and everyone you work for. You'd be endangering their lives."

"Alright, then. What do you suggest?"

"We can protect you." Said Al-Sheikh, "And we can get you in touch with someone who can help you, who can get your story out there."

"Who?"

"A high ranking employee of the American Government."

"Do I really have a choice in the matter?"

"I could say that you do, if that makes you feel better."

Lana smirked.

"I really don't, do I? Fine, we'll do it your way."

"We'll be leaving shortly." said Al-Sheikh and Nemo walked out, "For what it's worth, this will all be ever soon."

"If you want me to tell you where to find what you want, you'll have to answer my questions.

"Mister Dakkar will answer your questions."

"Just tell me on thing, who is it that's going to get my story published?"

Al-Sheikh smiled faintly as he turned around and headed for the door.

"Some people call him Deep Throat."

**Now**

_Zenda, Rurtania_

Illya Kuryakin wiped his glasses clean with a smooth handkerchief as he sat on a piano stool in a dimly lit corner of his cottage. A window was open, letting in cool night breeze.

"Do you know what Tennyson said about treason?" he said, speaking in Russian.

"It doesn't prosper," said Priest, also in Russian as he spilled the contents of a bottle of vodka onto a sofa, "And when it does no one will admit it."

"Hm. That is indeed the essence of it, though you've done a good job of ruining its profound poetry. So tell me, what do I call you?"

"I don't care, you can call me Kate if you like."

"Alright, will you tell me just how long you've been with the opposition? Will you grant me the courtesy?"

"Since last November." Said Priest as he poured gasoline all over the floor while the Russian watched.

"November." Mused Kuryakin, "You haven't even been with the opposition for a year."

Priest tossed the empty can aside, and then picked up a briefcase off of the ground.

"Is it time?" asked Kuryakin, eyeing the bulge under Priest's jacket.

"It is time."

"Seeing as how I am not allowed a Priest to hear my last confession, will you hear it?"

"Heh. Funny you should say that."

"Why?"

"Forget it. I'm afraid I'm the eager type, I'd like to be done with this as soon as possible."

"You're an old man." Said Kuryakin in perfect English, "I can tell. Your Russian is good, but antiquated. I'd say you learned the language at the turn of the previous century. I also assume you're an American, based on your murder of Tennyson. And seeing as how yu've penetrated my residence, I suppose the some fifteen Agents scattered in a one kilometer radius are all dead. My guess is you were perhaps one of the CIA's special operatives from the 50s and 60s, the monsters and science oddities pressed into service."

"Is there a point to this?"

"We're a similar breed; old school spies, dark knights of the cold war. Some courtesy would be in order."

Priest considered what the aging spy said, before putting the briefcase down.

"Did they tell you who I am?"

"You were one of the masterminds behind the opposition in eighties." Said Priest, "You're the one who brought Mason into the fold. And then you defected."

"In my life, I believed in two ideals; Marxism and the destruction of the league, and I had relinquished both."

"Why?"

"I opened my eyes, saw the world and mankind for what they truly were. Marxism couldn't work, because it anticipated such qualities in mankind in general than simply did not exist. The same could be said of the League's destruction. Humankind has always been under the thumb of the betters, and those who become better often opt to join than to beat, that is how it has been since long before Alan Quatermain left Kenya for that last time.

"It's not unfair, it's not fascistic. It is the great détente. The world doesn't go on in spite of the League. It goes on because of the League."

Priest reached into his coat, unholstering a handgun and thumbing back the hammer. Kuryakin looked down and said,

"You're not in Iraq or Afghanistan, interrogating a poor farmer for connection to terrorism; you're no longer with the CIA. How long do you perceive it will be before you open your eyes, Kate?"

Priest pulled the trigger. The silencer made a pop out of the gunshot, and a red shot exploded in Kuryakin's chest. The Russian looked up at Priest in shocked misery, and with another pull of the trigger, a second bullet shattered his glasses, and plunged into Kuryakin's cranium.

The body slumped toward the piano, knocking the lid down. The piano's wires vibrated with a final blare as Priest holstered his gun and picked up the briefcase, then struck and match and flicked it onto the couch, setting it ablaze before heading for the door.

* * *

**Two Hours Later**

Priest pulled over in the Airport's parking lot and got out of his stolen car, carrying the briefcase with him.

He walked toward the nearest phone booth and following a drop of a few coins, made an international call.

"Naif?"

_"Do you have the briefcase?"_

"Yes. I'm about to U-P-S it."

_"Good. And Kuryakin?"_

"Suffled off his mortal coil."

_"Good, that's one down."_

"Yep, six more to go."

_"Good luck. Vienna awaits, Mister Priest."_

"Goodbye."

_"A minute."_

"What?"

_"Did Kuryakin tell you anything?"_

Priest rubbed his eyes and didn't say anything.

_"Mister Priest?"_

"No. I came in through the bathroom window, asked him if he was Kuryakin, and as soon as he said yes, I shot him. Goodbye."

* * *

**Next Chapter** finds Priest nearing the end of his Eastern European Tour, he descends upon F.S.B. headquarters to learn the location of a particularly dangerous individual. While back at the Yellow Submarine, Lana Lang and Shaun have a chat.

R&R.


	45. Revolver

**One Week Later**

_Lubyanka Square, Moscow_

"Forget your keys, Sir?"

Yuri Markolov nodded in annoyance, mumbling something about his keys in response to the security guard's question as he hurried up the stairs of the unofficially dubbed Lubyanka, F.S.B. headquarters, heading back to his office.

Finally arriving at his destination, the intelligence officer grabbed the knob, and to his surprise the door gave away without a twist. Markolov disregarded the little voice in his head, claiming that something was wrong and beckoning him not to enter, he waltzed in regardless, figuring it was nothing but mild paranoia after sixteen hours at the office, following which he'd forgotten to properly close his door before he left.

Markolov flicked the lights on; the office was just like when he left it five minutes ago. His keys rested on the mouse pad by his computer. He reached across the desk to pick them up when he noticed something. A piece of black plastic, placed at the edge of the table, hard to notice if not for sheer coincidence.

Before Markolov could wonder what it was, he heard the familiar click of a hammer being pulled back on a nine millimeter pistol.

"The handle broke off when I was adjusting your swivel chair. Don't move a muscle."

The voice spoke fluent Russian, though the accent seemed a bit old fashioned, and it was not a voice he recognized.

"Who are you?" asked Markolov, trying to remain calm.

"I'm the one with the gun. You Markolov?"

"Who are you? Who sent you here?" Markolov demanded to know, on the verge of turning around to look at the mystery intruder.

"Don't turn around. Who I am and who sent me is not important."

"Put your gun down, or you'll never leave this building alive."

"I already snuck in, I can sneak out just as easy."

"You'll spend the rest of life looking over your shoulder."

"I** have** spent my life looking over my shoulder. In the aftermath of these minutes, the only thing that might change is that you'll be dead. I'm not here to kill you, I wouldn't mind doing it, but I don't need to. So just give me what I want and you'll walk out of here alive."

"You're crazy! I'd die before betraying-"

"No one's asking you to betray Rodinu, It's just one man. A man you're better off rid of anyway."

A hand reached over Markolov's shoulder, holding a folded scrap of paper. Markolov took it and unfolded it, and then read it. His eyes went slightly wide with surprise.

"What… What in Christ's name do you want with him?"

"You don't want to know. But I'd like his address, please."

"I'll need to use my computer."

"Go ahead. Remember, no funny business."

Markolov sat at his chair and switched the computer on, then tapped the keyboard, penetrating security barriers in search for the required information.

"What happened to the statue in the lobby?"

"What?" asked Markolov.

"In the lobby, there used to be a granite statue, ten feet high. Whatever happened to it?"

"It was moved to the museum when KGB closed." Said Markolov as his printer sprang to life.

The intruder slammed the butt of his gun into the back of Markolov's head, knocking him unconscious.

Priest holstered his gun, then took a syringe out of his coat and plunge into Markolov neck and pressed the plunger down, pumping a powerful tranquilizer into his veins as the paper left the printer.

* * *

**One Day Later**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"They've been busy." Said Diana Burnwood, standing in Josephine's office, facing a flat screen on the wall.

"First, they settled old business with a former comrade in Ruritania, and then they took out our contact in the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Logistics and Enforcement Department who was vacationing in Vienna at the time."

"Chances are he was discovered by Nick Fury, who got the opposition to do his dirty work." Said Josephine.

"Intelligence would tend to agree. Not that we'll ever be able to prove it, much less act upon it.

"After that they attack two of the four men managing our German weapons development research program. Then there's that other business in Budapest and Sarajevo…. Intelligence have studied the path and timing of these attacks, and have come with a list of the next possible targets should this Eastern European tour continue. Reinforcements have been scrambled to those locations."

"Do we have confirmed sightings?"

"Not exactly." Said Diana as a series of blurry images appeared on the screen, "A security camera caught a picture of Judas Priest outside a train station in Budapest, an hour before one of our safe-houses was blown up."

"No one else? So it's possible he's working alone?"

"His likelihood for success and survival on his own are slim, and his opposition superiors would know that. He'd only be sent alone as a death sentence. Besides, there's another picture of him with someone who may be Lucy Wagner."

"But we're not sure?"

"It's not a good enough picture for analysis. There's also the fact that Kuryakin died from a gunshot, which would suggest the presence of someone else, Jarrah or Sax, seeing as how using a gun is generally not Priest's modulus operandi."

"He was gleefully shooting my men with a shotgun two weeks ago, let's not rule it out."

* * *

_The Yellow Submarine_

"What's good in here?"

Shaun looked up from the ham sandwich he was masticating on as he sat at a table in the completely empty mess hall of the Yellow Submarine. Lana Lang was standing by one of the row of fridges behind him, with a spoon and an empty plate looking through the shelves.

"The Borscht was interesting."

"Borscht? Ew."

"There's a chicken salad on the top shelf."

"Thanks." Said Lana as she slapped two helpings of salad onto her plate, before walking over to Shaun's table.

"You don't mind, do you, John?"

"It's Shaun, and no. Help yourself."

"Thanks, and sorry. I don't think we've talked much over the past ten days." Said Lana as she raised a spoon full of chicken salad.

"I mean your friends they keep crowding me, trying to act like they didn't kidnap me or anything. Probably think they're reassuring me. "

"They're not?"

"I got kidnapped by a vampire and I'm in a submarine full of an international crew of liars who won't answer my questions."

"I'm sorry, did you say vampire?"

"Don't play dumb, I overheard your captain talking to his first mate."

"He's on probation."

"I didn't ask."

"Well, excuse me, then. And how is it that you're taking Priest's… condition in stride?"

"Suffice to say that where I come from, you tend to foster an open mind."

"Really? Where's that?"

"Smallville, Kansas." Said Lana as she took another bite.

"There's a place called Smallville?"

"Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, Londoner."

"Sorry."

"So, who are you people? Really?"

"What you've been told amounts to the truth." Said Shaun as he got up, having finished his sandwich.

"But who do you answer to?"

"No one."

"There's just one type of people that don't answer to anyone."

"We're not criminals, and we're not terrorists."

"Oh, so I assume you're just a working stiff? Do you get paid for what you do, Shaun?"

"No."

"Then why do it?"

"The league killed me wife."

"The League?"

"That's what we call them, the people who had you in their custody."

"And they killed your wife… So you want revenge. You expect me to believe that? It's a bit clichéd, don't you think?"

"Nothing's a cliché when it's happened to you."

* * *

_Siberia_

"Breaking the law, breaking the law… Breaking the law, breaking the laaaaa-aaaaawww…." Priest sang and then hummed the rest through the woods, the location corresponding to the coordinates that Markolov had given him, a forest in the middle of the Urals. Scores of acres of barren land, with nothing in it save for fruitless trees, and a single log cabin in the center of it, with few darkened windows and chimney breathing out smoke.

Priest looked down and adjusted the hood of his parka. Siberia wasn't particularly sunny, and it was late in the afternoon, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Just playing mailman, Priest. He's an old man, he's all alone, and you don't have to kill him. Easy beans. Just this and then it's off to Latveria and then home."

Priest looked up to see that a window by the cabin door was open, whether or not it was open before without him noticing or it was opened just then, Priest didn't know, and it wasn't a matter he was overly concerned with, as suddenly there was a flash of light from behind the open dark window, and the sound of a bang a second later.

Priest felt his kneecap shatter. He fell to the ground, eyes bulging, howling in pain. Blood spluttered from the injured joint, pouring onto the white snow around him, while in the distance a wooden door squeaked open, and a pair of heavy boots stepped out onto a wooden porch.

The pain subsided and Priest reduced his cries to grunts of agony. Already the muscle tissue was knitting back together, though it would take a long time for his kneecap to grow back. Finding this iota of relief, Priest could distinguish the sound of approaching footsteps on the thick snow blanket, about a hundred yards ago. Knowing there was nothing he could do; Priest remained where he was as the footsteps grew closer, until finally the shooter came into his range of view.

The man was old, tall and lean, with a withered face and a bald head, his beard and what little remaining hair he had was long and unkempt and as a white as the snow he walked upon. He wore a pair of heavy leather boots and a buttoned down pale leather duster, and in his gloved hand he held an old fashioned, long barreled revolver.

"Any last words?" the man asked with a voice gravely and deep, as he aimed the gun at Priest's head.

Priest grunted as he got up to his elbows.

"Revolver Ocelot, I presume?"

"I told you people to leave me alone. We have an agreement."

"I'm not who you think I am."

"Who are you, then?"

"I come on the behalf or Captain Raimus."

For a moment, Ocelot didn't seem to react to the name.

"I'd heard he was dead."

"He'd heard the same about you."

"That's true. How is Marko?"

"Good. Good."

"Why did he send you for me to kill?"

"I have a message from him." Said Priest, "Do you mind?"

"Try anything and I will kill you."

"Yeah, okay." Muttered Priest as he took an enevelope out of his coat, and handed it to Ocelot.

Ocelot took a few steps back, and with one hand unfolded the letter, while with the other he kept his revolver steadily aimed at Priest's head. He remained in his stance for a few minutes, till he folded the letter again and stuffed into his pocket.

"Marko says not to kill you." Said Ocelot as he turned around and walked away, "Tell him I said yes, and get away from my cabin."

* * *

**Next Chapter:**

As the last of his seven labors, Priest meets another priest. While the remaining Minutemen escort Lana Lang to the United States for her tete a tete with the man they call Deep Throat.

R&R.


	46. This is the Beginning

**Three Days Ago**

_Doomstadt, __Latveria_

Father Mackenzie watched from his pulpit as his congregation left following the conclusion of the afternoon service. One by one or in groups they filed through the church's wooden doors, until the church was nearly empty, for there remained a single patron, sitting at a pew near the center of the church that was a few pews behind where most patrons were sitting a while back.

Father Mackenzie waited for the man to get up and leave, but he did not. Intrigued, the vicar walked toward the lone patron, sitting at the edge of a pew, his head resting against the back of the pew in front of him.

"Pardon me, my friend. Can I help you?"

"Perhaps you can." Answered the man in English, which was a rare occurrence for the Father.

"I hope you don't mind talking in English. I don't speak Dutch, I only understand the German words, so I'm sorry to say that I couldn't make heads or tails your sermon, not that I've ever been the religious type."

"I'm sorry, who are you?"

"My name is Priest," said the man as he stood up and stepped away from the pew, "I'm here on behalf of the opposition. It's time, Gray."

Dorian lowered his head at the strange visitor's declaration, startled and disappointed, as he'd been dreading this day's coming for a few months.

"When do we leave?"

"Now would be a good time."

"I'll need some time to make preparations." Said Dorian as he turned around.

"Hhh… Listen, I've had a rather horrible ten days and would really, _really_ want to get this over with."

"Patience is the guardian of faith, the preserver of peace, the cherisher of love, the teacher of humility. I only require to pack a few things, inform a colleague to cover for me until the archdiocese to can arrange a replacement."

* * *

**Now**

_Casablanca, Morocco_

"Exactly who is deep throat?" asked Jenny as she sat back in her chair in Al-Sheikh's office, holding a cup of tea.

"I don't know." Answered Al-Sheikh as he stood looking out of his window, "I doubt anyone save for he knows."

"How did you manage to secure an appointment with him?"

"It wasn't easy. I had to call in a few favors from my contacts in the Pentagon. There were several failed attempts at contacting him, which consisted of peculiar methods, like buying a Russian newspaper at the lobby of a certain Hotel in Washington, or arranging flower pots on a balcony in a specific manner. One method worked; apparently each has a turn in rotation."

"Alright, if you don't know who is he, do you know what?"

Al-Sheikh sat at his desk and picked up his own tea-cup.

"He's a government official, presumably high ranking and well connected. His task is to ensure presidential integrity."

"What does that even mean?"

"Deep Throat was the pseudonym given to the secret source providing the Washington post with information relating to Nixon's involvement in what came to be known as the Watergate scandal. The secret source had came forward three years ago; William M. Felt, former Deputy Director of the FBI. All that's public knowledge, what's not known is that there has been a deep throat long before Watergate.

"No one knows who was the first, or when. There are rumors that the very first was a member of George Washington's culper ring. Some speculate that Felt was the second or third. Whatever the truth may be, these men were mavericks, operating clandestinely and independently, each charged with two tasks; to ensure that the presidency adheres to certain standards of integrity, though through the decades the standards have wavered, and to recruit a suitable replacement to hold that burden."

"That's… rather foolish."

"It is. But it is what we need."

"From where I'm sitting, I don't think he's been doing a stellar job. Are you sure he'll b any help?"

"By definition, deep throat is a traitor to the American government. The top brass know enough of him to want to cut the legacy out, so that makes his job harder. With the new, terrifying ways the CIA find to abolish secrecy, carrying on the mission of being deep throat and maintaining anonymity gets increasingly harder, thus what I have said about the standards wavering. However, stopping McNeil from getting into the white house, especially once we present the evidence Lana Lang has provided is entirely possible."

* * *

**Yesterday**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

"These will be your digs for the time." Said Priest, carrying a messenger bag and as he leaned against the metal door while looking around the _ghost station_ that had served as the minutemen's base of operations during their tenure in Gotham, only two weeks ago.

"It's not the Waldorf, but we figured you liked the whole Spartan living thing."

"I'm sure I'll manage." Said Dorian as he set an upturned chair. He was rid of his cassock and wore plain clothe. Both he and Priest had just arrived in the city earlier in the day, having flown in under assumed identities on a chartered flight.

"Okay. The fridge is working, I fixed it myself. You should use the third bunk from the left, it's the, you know, best one. There's guns and ammo in the locker over there… You can even practice shooting down here; no one'll be the wiser."

"I actually prefer swords."

"I'm more of an axe man, myself. Alright, pay attention…"

Priest placed the messenger bag on the table and opened it and then pulled out a laptop.

"This is how you'll be in touch with Nemo." Said Priest, "You can either call up Nemo, or the management will call you. You just press the on-button and the rest takes care of itself, pretty easy to get a hang of. A monkey could do it."

"Where is she?" asked Dorian, "Where's Mina."

Priest mockingly clucked his tongue.

"Tt. Patience is the teacher of despair, or whatever."

"I'm here to kill the harlot, aren't I?"

Priest smiled slightly.

"Harlot; That's quaint. We say "Bitch" these days." Said Priest as he slammed a thick bundle of cash onto the table.

"Your orders for now are to sit tight, familiarize yourself with the city and wait for the order. Here's Ten grand; walking around money. Don't spend it all at once, and don't leave home with all of it, Gotham is an unpleasant place. And now, finally, the main event…"

Priest pulled a dossier out of the bag, out of which he took out a picture of a face painfully familiar to Dorian.

"Oh god…." Said Dorian as he took the picture with shaky fingers, and studied Mina's face, the attractive cruelty of her mouth accentuated by her perfect pale skin, and the aura of siren red surrounding her face.

"I know, right?" said Priest with a chuckle, "She's a smasher!"

"She's a demon." Said Dorian, squeezing the edge of the photo, "A child of abominations, a blood-drinking fiend, crawling among the scum in the darkness."

"Wow." Said Priest, "Us undead can be an uneasy bunch, but you've got a serious amount of issues."

"What?"

"You've been dragged around for the past two days by a blood-drinking fiend, padre."

"You're a -?"

"That's what I'm saying."

Priest shook his head as he walked toward the door, "I first knew death when I witnessed men of god sawing my big sister's head off, and this is what I get for being a sport about it."

* * *

**Now**

_The Yellow Submarine_

Lana looked over her shoulder to see Mona walk through the door. She turned back to the computer screen before which she had been laboring for hours.

"You should have brought some coffee." Mumbled Lang.

"I'm not your wife." Said Mona as she sat down on the edge of the bed, "How's the expose of the century going?"

"I'm just putting the final touches. Why, do you want to read it?"

"Oh, I'm a pleasure delayer. I'll read it in the papers like everyone else."

"Suit yourself."

"We're four hours away from Liberty City. The Captain thought you might want to know."

"Thanks."

"We'll be shadowing you the entire way; you have nothing to worry about."

"I know."

"Let me ask you one thing; did you give any thought what are you going to do after today?"

"I have friends in Metropolis who can help me until it all blows over. These people, the League, they'll stop coming after me when the damage is done."

"No, they won't. After what we did to break you out, they have to kill you-"

"Thanks for your concern." Said Lana as she tapped away at the key board with quick precision, "If you go to the mess hall, se if you can get someone to bring me some coffee."

Mona rolled her eyes as she headed for the door, muttering, "Your funeral."

* * *

**Yesterday Evening**

_Elizabeth, New Jersey_

Priest gloomily sat at the edge of the hospital bed, looking out the window with the eastern exposure as sunlight started to cease, the sun sinking below the horizon out of view.

The door to the exam room opened, and in entered a tall, thin man of fifty with an amount of stubble, walking with a limp and the aid of a cane.

"Well, good news. Remember when I said that you were going to die?" asked the doctor as he sat down and reached into his pocket for a little plastic bottle, "That wasn't a case of misdiagnoses."

"I'd laugh if I knew how to fake it."

"You are five months late fir your appointment."

"Sorry, I got busy."

"Doing what?"

"I got a new job, I travel a lot."

"Anywhere nice?"

"France, England, Gotham. Russia, recently."

"Ah, seeing the world before you die. That's so passé. Just once I would like to meet someone with Leukemia spending his last days watching Monty Python marathons."

The doctor unscrewed the bottle, poured it into his palm and then tossed the pills that came out into his mouth.

"Want one?" he asked. Priest opened his palm, and tossed back the pills that the doctor had bestowed upon him.

"How do you feel these days?" asked the doctor with sardonic indifference.

"How don't I feel? One day I'm fatigued, another I'm at the top of my game."

"When was your last episode?"

"Three and a half weeks ago, I think. Before that I was having one or two minor episodes a week."

"That… Poisonous agent you've got in your system is affecting your liver, causing it to secrete ... You know what, you have no idea what I'm talking about."

"None whatsoever."

"You still drink?"

"A bottle of vodka a day."

"Keep at it." Said the doctor as grabbed hold of his cane stood up, "Now if you excuse me, I have human patients to avoid."

"How long do I have?" asked Priest , looking down at his feet.

"I have no idea, nothing about your anatomy is within the boundaries of medical norms, and you know that." Said the doctor, "But, If I have to make a guesstimate…. A year and some change, maybe two."

"That's what you said six years ago."

"Sorry to disappoint." Said the doctor as he limped out of the exam room, "Come see me again in two months."

* * *

**Yesterday Morning**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

Josephine switched off her computer monitor, then turned to the door and beckoned whoever came knocking to enter.

Diana walked in in a hurry. Josephine got up from behind the desk.

"What is it?"

"The opposition has made a slip." She said with glee, "Remember the vehicle they used in attacking the decoy security convoy? They stashed it in a junkyard on the city limits. When we found it, we had it fitted with trackers, in the vain hope they'd actually try and collect it somewhere down the road. It started moving."

"When?"

"Two hours ago."

"They wouldn't be stupid enough to risk retrieving it. What kind of trackers were used?"

"Well, what we usually do is install two groups of tracking devices. The first is well disguised, but can be found by someone who knows what they're doing, which we would want to happen. The second group are the high-end equipment they can't find, that we intend to use. But seeing as how these people operate under Nemo, we knew finding the second batch would almost be just as easy. So we added a third batch, prototypes designed by a one of the Berlin branch R&D subsidiaries."

"Which are?"

"Nanites." Said Diana, her smile widening, "This is technology that didn't exist three months ago. Not even Nemo could detect it. We got them."

Josephine's face remained frozen for a few seconds before a wide grin spread across her face.

"Who are behind the wheel?"

"A witness said that it was only one man, wearing a hooded jacket. The build and height is that of Judas Priest. We have no idea what he was doing here, whatever it is, he did it before collecting the car. He just drove it out, stopped a quarter of the mile away for two hours, discarded the first two batches of trackers and then continued driving."

"Where is he now?"

"Passing through Delaware. We can have him picked up any time we want."

"Don't. Keep tracking him, get full satellite and CCTV images of him. He'll eventually lead us to his compatriots. Contact Mandy, tell her to take her unit back stateside and follow Priest's trail. Once he reached his final destination, we'll get them all."

* * *

**Next Chapter:** Priest unwittingly leads the League's counter-opposition unit on a crash course with the minutemen just as the Regan McNeil presidential campaign is put on the balance when Lana Lang and Deep Throat meet at last, all leading toward one thing; gratuitous violence on the streets of Liberty City, just the way you like it.

R&R.


	47. America's Worst Place

**Now**

_Staunton Island, Liberty City, New Jersey_

Liberty City wasn't a place people liked living in. It wasn't a place people liked. Period. It was slightly better in most aspects than it's neighboring Carcer, but that was it. Beneath the façade of being a world grade cosmopolitan city was something else, a province of greed and corruption, though lacking the colorful variety of Gotham's underworld, or the overdramatic flamboyance of Basin City, it had came to be known as America's worst city.

Sayid and O'Brien sat in a parked car in the district known as Torrington, looking across the street as Lana walked alone toward the AM corporation building with Mona following her fifteen feet behind.

"So this is it, then?" asked O'Brien, nervously wiping his oversized sunglasses clean with the bottom of his shirt and putting them back on, "She goes in, has her little pow-wow with Mister Throat, she goes out, bada-bing, bada-boom, our job's done and we get out of dodge, right?"

"That's the plan."

"You don't think anything can go wrong?"

"I would be surprised if it did." Said Sayid as he watched Lana enter the building with Mona following soon, "We were meticulously careful. We haven't been in this city for more than two hours. I can't see how trouble might arise."

"You're right, man. I mean, it's not like Priest is here, right? Now that guy is like an industrial grade magnet for trouble. Oh, god! I'm freaking out."

"So am I."

"You hide it well."

"I practice. Just try and find reasons to be cheerful."

"Right." Said O'Brien as he rolled down a window and looked out, "Priest isn't here. Nothing's going to go wrong."

* * *

_Carcer City, New Jersey_

Codename Bullseye was an obnoxious man, though not of many words. He'd been dispatched from the League's New York Branch a little over a week ago, to be a part of the newly assembled counter-opposition unit, acting as second to Mandy Hughes. An Irishman of average build, sporting a goatee and a bald head that remained under a black wool cap at all times, he was usually decked in black clothes and leather, but wore dark combat gear at the moment, much like the eleven other agents aboard the helicopter flying above the dilapidated city of Carcer.

_"Mandy, do you read me?"_

Many raised a hand to her ear to better hear Diana's voice coming through her ear-piece.

"Yeah. What do we got?"

_"The car's stopped."_

"Dammit. Where?"

_"Liberty City. Staunton Island."_

"Any chance he's stuck in traffic?"

_"No. All lights are green at his Bedford Point, and the car's engine is turned off. It's parked."_

"Did you hear that?" shouted Mandy.

"I heard it." Replied the pilot, "It'll take us Fifteen minutes."

* * *

_Liberty City_

Lana checked her watch. It was Five-thirty-three. She slowly scanned her surroundings, the underground fluorescent-lit parking garage was packed with cars, but she was the only one standing there. The dossier under her arm grew heavy as time went by at a snail's pace.

Suddenly, the lights flickered out. The garage was filled in darkness, the only lights coming from outside and above, through the ramp leading to outside.

"Lana Lang?"

The voice was powerful, yet smooth. It was stern and composed with a hint of a North New Yorker accent.

"Yes." Said Lana as she looked all around herself, but all she could see was the dark shape of rows of parked cars.

"I'm Deep Throat." Said the voice.

"Where are you?"

"You're facing me right now. Stay where you are."

Lana obliged and swallowed hard.

"I'm informed that you have dirt on Senator McNeil."

"I have evidence." Said Lana, "Contributions accepted illegally, meetings that-"

Care to be more specific."

"For starts, do you know that late husband of hers?" asked Lana, "The marine who died during Dessert Storm? To whom she's been loyal to even after his death? She never married him. She never even met him. Not that anything could possible could happen if they did. Lieutenant Colonel John McNeil was in the closet. There's a man in New Mexico who still makes the trip up to New York twice a year on his birthday and the day he died to lay a flower on his grave and sing him his favorite song; Ballad of the Thin Man by Jude Quinn"

"That's all?"

"What? This woman has robbed a man's life. A soldier, for crying out loud! She's taken all that's left of him to serve her own ends, to form a false image through which she could get to the white house. And the fact that she pulled it off speaks volumes of this conscious-free cesspool of a system that we got.

"And no, that isn't all. McNeil's is mixed up in all kinds of crooked."

* * *

The helicopter had landed atop the building that housed the League's Liberty City station, situated at Newport. Mandy, Bullseye and six other agents disembarked while the remaining stayed onboard. They changed into civilian clothes and took two cars to Bedford Point where Priest was thought to had parked the car fifteen minuets earlier.

"Sullivan, Peters." Said Mandy as she got out of her car, holstering a gun and tightening her jacket, "Stay here in case they get back to the car.

"Pope, Rogers; Patrol Northern Torrington and Bedford Point. Smith, Brown; Take Rockford. Bulseye and I will canvas Mid and Southern Torrington on foot. If you spot any of them report back to me. Shoot to maim."

* * *

"How did you get all of that?" asked the voice out of the darkness.

"Well, I _**am**_ an investigative journalist. I have my sources." Said Lana as she paced nervously, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from.

"Would they be prepared to step forward?"

"No."

"Would you be prepared to finger them?"

"I couldn't even if I wanted to. My major source remains completely anonymous, even to me." Said Lana, "How's that for irony, Mr. Throat?"

There was a long pause before Deep Throat spoke again, saying in a tone most practical and urgent.

"Alright. Five feet behind you, by the column is a dark green Station Wagon. The left rear window is cracked wide enough for you to drop your dossier. Make sure everything is inside."

Lana did as she was commanded and dropped the dossier with all its contents into the car. The car's windows were blackened, adding to the darkness of the garage, made it impossible to see anything inside beyond a black void.

"I'm prepared to go all the way…" said Lana.

"That won't be necessary, Miss Lang. You've done your country a great favor."

"I mean it. Whatever it takes, no matter what the cost… I'll do what it takes to get the truth out."

"What are you talking about?"

Lana was surprised by Deep Throat's question, and the genuine puzzlement with which he spoke.

"My expose, my… Look, the deal was that you'd arrange for my story to be published."

"Miss Lang… I am afraid there must have been a misunderstanding."

"Not on my part, my people told me-"

"I am not aware, nor hold any responsibility to honor any agreement."

"But-"

"These are bad days, Miss Lang." said Deep Throat in the darkness, in a voice cold, collected and final, "America is not what it once was. America no longer holds the perception it once did. With all that's happened during the past years, the government of the United States holds wavering credibility."

"The people deserve the truth."

"The people can't handle the truth. If news of McNeil's actions should ever be made public, it would tarnish our image beyond repair. No, this evidence will be used to force McNeil to step down, under some false cover, with dignity. We'll prevent her from becoming our president; that is what matters."

* * *

Shaun stood by the magazine rack in the convenience store, trying to figure what publication was even remotely likely to interest him. The Gotham Gazette, The Daily Bugle, The Metropolis Daily Planet. He couldn't decide, the truth of the matter was, he didn't feel like reading, wasn't too keen on staying outside.

The cashier, a surly old man, eyed him with contempt, waiting for an excuse to toss him out. Shaun realized that he'd been standing where was for the past five minutes, and didn't seem about to buy anything. He'd overstayed his welcome.

Shaun walked towards, feeling the cashier loosen up as he was about to become scarce. A bell rang as his foot hit the street outside, as if it was the convenience store's sigh of relief.

He leaned against the bus stop booth outside and scanned his surroundings. Shaun had caught a glimpse of himself in the glass door, and realized he'd allowed his beard to grow out. He hadn't shaved for as long as Priest had been gone, not that there was any connection. Liz wouldn't have had any of it. She'd have badgered him about it to no end until he'd shave it off, not that she would, or have to; all she would have had to do was ask.

A bus arrived and expelled a dozen or so commuters, it stopped for a few moments, picking up a few passengers before blowing away with the haste that was a hallmark of the city. Shaun didn't move, and simply continued watching people come and go; a beat cop patrolling the area on foot, a gang member in urban attire, an old woman shopping. Shaun groaned with boredom, and contemplated going into the convenience store to pick up the first newspaper he could lay his hand upon.

True to her ways, Mona had picked the dullest job for him, to stand guard at an insignificant junction. He was surprised that she didn't task him with the even duller job of keeping Lucy company back at the submarine.

Shaun always realized he was the least experienced of the team, but couldn't help think it went beyond that. He'd suspected that he'd been included on the team out of pity; or worse, as a mascot; something that the hardened killers and professionals could look upon and be reminded of what kind of enemy they were facing.

Aside from being part of a fake bank robbery, Shaun thought, few words could be used to describe his involvement, quite literally. He'd hovered around ever since that first job and held a gun during a helicopter robbery, and even then, the pilot was more fixated with the threat of Sayid, hardly even looking at him.

They trusted him, to be sure, they just didn't want him hurt. Priest alone harbored enough guilt that he was wiling to take all the punishment there was for Shaun to stay in the clear. They thought they could preserve his innocence, hoping that he'd quench his lust for revenge by let him help take the League's plans apart.

As far as safety went, he along with anybody who survived being in London on that September day four days ago, have forever lost any sense of it, and knew that the end of everything lurked around the corner.

As for innocence, whatever he'd had of it was spent when he killed a man in cold blood on the night he was supposed to be visiting his wife's grave, then dismembered the body, following Priest's lessons to the letter, removing all traces of who he was, ensuring no one would ever find out who the man was or who killed him.

And as far as for quenching his revenge went, they were wrong for the third time. They could topple McNeil and it wouldn't make a difference. They could blow all the league's designs to hell and it didn't matter. It wasn't about stopping a coming war for Shaun, he didn't care about the rest of the world. He just wanted to kill them.

Shaun was torn from his musings when one of the people he was watching rang a bell in him. A young woman, short and pale with raven black hair, crossing the street. She didn't seem to notice him, and simply continued to walk across the street, heading in the direction of the AM building. He'd seen her in a Coffee shop in London months ago, meeting with O'Brien undercover, and accompanied by one of the men who killed his wife.

Shaun fixed his eyes on her as he reached for his cell phone, and hurriedly dialed a number from memory, then put the phone to his ear and waited for Mona to pickup.

_"Is everything alright, Shaun?"_

"They're here." Said Shaun nervously, "That tart who met with Eel in London is here."

_"Mandy Hughes? Are you sure?"_

"Completely." Said Shaun as he tried to cross the street, only to be scared back and honked at by a car that had come to screeching halt. Shaun went ahead, stalking Mandy from a distance.

"I can take her." Said Shaun feeling the gun in the back of his pants with his free hand, "I can sneak up on her, put a bullet in her head before she gets to you."

_"Don't do it."_

"It would be so easy."

_"She's a highly trained ex-mercenary with years of experience, Shaun. You don't stand a chance. Don't follow her either."_

"Well what do you want me to do?" said Shaun as he stood on the other side of the street.

_"She's coming up toward me?"_

"Yes, from behind."

_"Are you sure she saw me?"_

"I don't know, but she's not changing direction and she's bound to see you soon."

_"How far?"_

"I don't know, it'd take her thirty seconds or something."

_"Alright, stay on the line…"_

* * *

"Now, you can't do this!" cried Lana as she bolted forward, toward where Deep Throat's voice was coming from second ago. Deep Throat did not warn her to stay away, nor say anything at all.

Lana couldn't find him; all she reached was a space between two cars and the garage wall ahead.

Lana then heard the sound of an engine coming to life, then the screech of tires as they went into motion. She turned around just in time to smell the burning rubber, and see the Station Wagon bolting from its spot and toward the ramp, bursting onto the street outside.

The lights came on, and Lana saw the speaker taped to the wall, a low-tech device that made her talk to a wall while Deep Throat waited in his car for her to drop everything into his lap. The end result of months of sacrifice and hard work, the story she'd been toiling over for the past days, all gone. Her mission, her triumph, robbed in the blink of an eye.

Lana felt her world coming down around her, she squatted down, burying her head in her hands and closed her eyes as disappointment set in. She couldn't care to look around once she heard the footsteps approaching.

"I have nothing to barter for my life…. Just kill me."

"So I guess you learned, huh?"

The voice was once that Lana hadn't heard for too often or too long, but recognizable.

She looked over her shoulder to see Priest standing by, looking as rum as he ever did.

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Yes." Said Priest callously, "We screwed you over, royally. Now you need to let us get you somewhere safe."

* * *

**Next Chapter** sees the League and the minutemen commit acts of destruction of pubic property, use of a lot of firearms with the intent to kill and of course, grand theft auto.

R&R.


	48. Under fire

**Now**

_Liberty City_

Mona's heart hummed as she slowly reached for her gun holstered under her left armpit, by that point she could hear the faint sound of footsteps on the marble ground around the AM building. She wasn't sure if she could hit the target, but knew she might not need to.

_"She's reaching for something."_ She heard Shaun say through the cell phone in her lap.

Her fingers wrapped around the handle, she turned the gun while still holstered and pulled the trigger.

The bullet tore through the leather of the back of Mona's jacket, traveled a dozen feet or so and struck Mandy's flank.

It stunned and stung her to no end, though it did not injure her. The micro-weight fabric of the armor she wore under her shirt stopped the bullet.

Mona rose from the bench, puling her gun out of it's holster and firing again as she ran for cover. Mandy didn't need to be prodded further, she snapped out of it and aimed and fired her own gun as she scrambled out of Mona's line of fire.

All nearby pedestrians screamed and cleared the area upon hearing the second gunshot. Mona stuck her back to a the wall at the corner of the building. Peaking around to get hear bearings, Mona pulled back just in time for Mandy bullet to miss her.

* * *

"What was that?" asked Lana.

Priest didn't answer and simply waited for someone to answer his call.

_"Shaun?"_

"It's Priest. I'm back. I'm down in the basement with Lang. What's going on?"

_"Mandy Hughes and the rest of the Gestapo are here. Is it done?"_

"Yeah. Deep Throat left already. "

_"So she knows?"_

Priest looked out the corner of his eye at Lana.

"Yep."

_"Okay. You need to get you out of here."_

"I'll be right with you."

_"No. You need to get her out of this city."_

"What? I'm not leaving you behind."

_"We'll be alright."_

"Like hell."

_"Priest, I've saved your life more times than I care to remember. Do me a favor; don't argue, just get Lana on the submarine. Alright?"_

"Fine, whatever." Said Priest begrudgingly, "Look, I brought back the Nemo's Dodge Charger. It's stashed in an ally in Bedford Point, rights next to the Hyaku Dojo."

_"I'll keep that in mind.."_

There was further sounds of gunfire over the line, it took Mona a few moments to speak once again.

_"I have to go now."_

* * *

"Drive." Said Sayid as he rolled down a window and prepared his shotgun to fire. O'Brien started the car.

"Mona or the other one?"

"Mona."

O'Brien stepped on the pedal with force; the car lurched forward and barreled down the street. As soon as they reached the corner, O'Brien pulled the wheel to one side, causing the car to drift as it changed direction.

Sayid leaned back to open the rear door while the car moved, clearing the way for Mona to get in as fast as possible. A split second after that, the car collided head on with another.

O'Brien slumped on the steering wheel, his head throbbed achingly. Sayid wasn't much better, but he knew the urgency of the situation at hand. He pushed the door open and dove out onto his side, firing at one of the men of the other car as he exited through the driver's seat, hitting him in the upper chest. Sayid turned his attention to the other man, praying he could make the shot or he was a dead man.

He couldn't, but it didn't matter, before the other League agent could take his shot, he caught a bullet in the back of the neck and fell down in an instant.

Sayid got to his feet as Mona came running toward them with a smoking gun in her hand.

"Eel…"

"I'll live." Said O'Brien as he staggered through his door, his neck was bizarrely contorted, something that fixed itself in an instant.

"Pop the trunk."

O'Brien did as Mona asked, the three gathered at the rear, pulling what guns and ammo they could out of the trunk of the car, now no longer driveable.

"Where's Lang?" asked Sayid, loading an assault rifle.

"She's with Priest, they already got away."

"Man, Priest is back?" complained O'Brien, "Well, that just figure; no wonder we got attacked, Priest is in town!"

"Wait, where's Shaun?" asked Mona.

"Wasn't he at the corner?"

"He was. Give me your phone."

O'Brien did as she asked, and went on to pick up a single pistol that he clumsily loaded with a single clip.

"He's not answering." Barked Mona with frustration.

The wails of police sirens grew louder as they approached in the distance.

"We can't leave without him."

"I know, but we might not have that choice."

Mona sighed as she stuffed a magazine into her jacket pocket and stepped away from the car.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" asked Lana as she put on her seat belt in the passenger's seat of an unlocked car while Priest hunched with his face to the steering wheel, touching a pair of exposed wire again and again with no result.

"I don't do this too often." Said Priest as he grew impatient hearing the close sound of gunfire, "Just because I'm a drug smuggler doesn't mean I have to be a car thief."

"You're a drug smuggler?"

The engine rose to life. Priest slipped a tight ski-mask on before hitting the gas pedal and charging out of the parking spot with haste.

The car levitated as it came shooting up the ramp and onto street level, then landed and skid toward the opposite building. Priest turned the wheel and hit the breaks, but his efforts only lessened the impact of his side of the car with the building.

Lana rocked in her seat. Priest brushed the trauma of impact off as he hit the gas pedal.

Unbeknownst to either, Mandy was there to witness their escape. She caught a good glimpse of the masked driver, and saw and recognized his passenger clearly as their prime target.

Mandy paid the sound of the distant collision no mind as she fired at the driver. The bullet shattered the window glass before going on to strike the windshield.

"Who's shooting?"

"Don't know… But they got me." Said Priest as he nursed with a gloved hand the spot in his cheek where the bullet had grazed him.

Mandy pulled the trigger again and again as the car zipped away, the rear windshield shattered, a side-view mirror broke off, but the car continued it's flight and soon disappeared around the corner.

Mandy turned around to see a dark gray, high-end sport car come in her direction. She stood directly in the vehicle's way, raising a badge she's produced from her jacket. The sport car came to a halt, the driver stepped out; she was a well-dressed woman of early thirties.

"F.B.I." Said Mandy as she flashed the badge, "I'm going to have to cease your vehicle."

The driver couldn't protest as Mandy pushed past her and got into the car, speeding off in an instant.

As she went after Priest and Lana, Mandy flipped her phone open and dialed a number.

"Captain Rogers, I'm in pursuit of the prime target. She's in a lime-green 1998 Sentinel. Last seen in south Torrington heading west. Find it."

* * *

_The Yellow Submarine_

"There's a phone call coming in, sir." Said a Russian crewman in the submarine's bridge, "From the mainland."

Nemo frowned as he put on the headset while the Russian pressed a button on the wall.

"Yes?"

_"Nemo, we're in trouble."_ Nemo heard Mona say amid tired pants

"Good god. What happened?"

_"The meeting was over, everything was going well. Then the League showed up."_

"How many?"

_"Mandy Hughes is here and she has backup. We've managed to shake them for now, but we need to get off this island."_

"Who's we?"

_"Me, Sayid and O'Brien."_

"What about Collier and Lang?"

_"Lang is with Priest, I gave them the order to meet you at the rendezvous point. Shaun's gone missing, his phone has been turned off… We don't know where Shaun is."_

"Alright. I would mobilize the submarine, but an exploration pod can reach you faster. At Newport, there's a small pier, that's where my men will be waiting for you. Can you get to it?"

_"We do not have an abundance of choice, do we?"_

"Quite so. Good luck. Your vessel will be waiting by the time you get to it."

Nemo removed the headset and looked back, a group of hardened sailors looked toward him waiting for the order.

"Mister Shears." Said Nemo. Billy Shears, the submarine's second mate, nodded and said,

"On my way, Sir."

* * *

"This is weird," said O'Brien as he looked at the bloodless bullet hole in his leg, "Is this how getting shot is supposed to be?"

"It's supposed to hurt." Said Sayid as he kept an eye at the end of the ally, his finger rubbing his gun's trigger guard.

"That's it. It hurts, but the pain is weird, like… It's just in that one spot. I would have thought the whole leg would be killing me, but it isn't."

"It would." Said Sayid, "I suppose having elastic muscle and skin tissue has it's perks."

"Ha!"

"What did Nemo say?" asked Sayid as he saw Mona close her phone.

"Help is on its way." Said Mona.

"Thank god."

"Problem is we have to go to Newport to get to it."

"That's six kilometers from here." Said Sayid, "Six kilometers, fraught with the city police department. Did you see how they were hounding us? They must have been informed we were terrorists or something. One of them shot O'Brien in the leg on sight."

"I don't think it was a cop." Said O'Brien, "I know a cop when I see one, and that wasn't one."

"He's right." Said Mona, "I know him. He's an assassin; calls himself Bullseye. I want to stay as away from him as possible."

"Seconded." Said O'Brien, "Can we get moving now?"

"Not yet." Said Mona, "The moment we step out onto the streets we're all dead."

"We could jack a car." Said O'Brien, "I could change my face to that of someone else, you two could duck out of view while I drive."

"It won't work, the police will have barricaded the area." Said Sayid.

"Well we can't wait it out with them," said O'Brien, "Sooner or later, the league's cavalry will ride into town and then we will be truly and properly screwed."

High above, the rotating blades of a helicopter could be heard slicing the air.

"Exactly.", said Mona, "They've sent in the helicopters, we can't hide here for long. We need to give the cops a distraction. O'Brien, can you walk?"

"It's not my idea of fun, but yeah."

"Did you get a good luck at the guy who shot you?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"I have a plan, it's not well-thought, too risky and frankly it's desperate and we're going to do it. Here's what I want you to do…"

* * *

Sorry the update took so long. The good news is that I've been plotting the rest of the season, which should run until chapter 66 or so.

**Next Chapter:** The minutemen's mission come to an end at last as Mona performs a highly unpredictable last ditch effort, while Lana and Priest make their way to Portland Island with Mandy and a League helicopter in hot pursuit.

R&R


	49. Liberty Stands Still

**Now**

_Staunton Island, Liberty City, New Jersey_

"Shit. SHIT." Barked Priest as he changed gears and his the gas pedal.

"Now what?" asked Lana anxiously as the car jerked forward, following the less than smooth transition.

"Didn't you notice that Helicopter's been following us ever since we left Torrington?"

"Helicopter?" said Lana as she looked through the window.

"They're tailing us."

"Maybe not; it just flew in the other direction."

"That just means that whoever they were trying to guide just managed to catch on and is now tailing us from a few cars behind."

"Can you see them?"

"Not really. This mask is screwing my vision and the chances are that whoever is following us is better at not being noticed than I am at spotting them. We'll have to ditch the car."

The car swerved to the right, heading straight through the Aspatria district. Lana's stomach sank as she felt her unusual chauffer tense up as he prepared for his next move.

With a quick jerk of the steering wheel, the car moved onto the wrong side of the road, heading head on toward oncoming traffic.

"Jesus Christ, are you crazy?!!"

Priest steered his way into the narrow gap between two oncoming cars, passing through with but a mere scratch on the car's body, bypassing a long line of traffic as he reached a crossroad, he pulled the parking brakes as he let go of the gas pedal and steered to the right before hitting the gas pedal again, causing the car to turn almost all the way around, and head into the underground tunnel system.

Away from the surface and with only synthetic light to touch them, Priest took off his mask and looked at his forehead in the rear view mirror. The wound had healed, leaving an unseemly scar that would fade in a day and an amount of dry blood on the side of his face.

"Get ready." Said Priest, not bothering to say for what. He drove on in silence for the better part of a minute as the tunnel went steeply down for a good stretch before he hit the breaks.

The seatbelt kept Lana from slamming into the dashboard as the car came to a screeching halt, and without any other word Priest exited the car, leaving it's engine running and his door open.

"Get out."

It took literally seconds for a line of stopped cars to assemble before the stopped Sentinel, the driver's honked their horns, angrily demanding the obstacle to be removed.

"Hey asshole, we've got jobs to get to!"

"Mymother'smysister!"

Lana got out of the car and followed Priest as he walked up the line, all the way facing angry drivers hurling obscenities as she passed by. At the fifth car from the front, Priest shattered the window of a blue Mannana with the handle of his trench knife, forced the door open from the inside and leaning in to grab the driver from the inside as she reached over to the other side, trying to get out of Priest's reach.

Lana watched in shock as the driver, an elderly woman, was pulled out, she tried to resist, hiting Priest in the jaw but it had no effect whatsoever.

"Stay down." Barked Priest as the lady cowered on the ground of the underground tunnel, he got into the driver's seat and strapped himself in, while Lana timidly got into the driver's seat.

"You… How do you sleep at night?" asked Lana as the car jerked forward.

"I don't."

Lana felt something solid by her foot, she leaned down to pick it up. It was a large, long barreled revolver.

Priest glanced at the weapon as he drove. "Colt Python." he remarked as he got into the other lane, overtook the car in front of him and got back into the proper lane before he could collide with an oncoming taxi cab.

"She was reaching for it when I pulled her out."

"Is that supposed to make you any less of a bastard?"

"Well, the handle is wrapped in band-aids, to keep the gun from holding her prints. That was supposed to be a future murder weapon. Yours, if I hadn't stopped her in time."

"You didn't know that before you pulled her out."

"Point. You want me to pull over?"

"Why would I-?"

"You're thinking; these people sold me out, now they don't have the decency to just leave me alone, this guy just tossed an old lady on her ass, I should shoot his brains out. Only thing is; I'm driving, so trying to kill me would mean killing both of us, and by that, I actually mean you."

"Alright, pull over."

"No. Do you mind handing me the heater?"

Lana inched away in her seat, holding the gun tight and looking at Priest's extended hand.

"Do you mind giving me the gun, please?"

Following another moment of hesitation, Lana relented.

"Thank you." Said Priest as he took the gun and dropped it in his lap.

Lana eyed him with disgust for a moment before looking away and leaning her head against the window, looking out as the tunnel lights raced past.

---------------------------

"Shit, here comes the nutjob." Said Peters, alerting his partner Sullivan to look up the street, where Bullseye came limping toward them.

"Jesus, I was hoping he'd get his throat chewed out by them." Mumbled Sullivan as he flicked his cigarette away.

Sullivan straightened up as Bullseye turned around the corner, barely shooting them a surly stare as he headed toward the car parked at the end of the ally.

"What the hell happened, sir?" asked Sullivan.

"We were ambushed."

"Where is Hughes?"

"She's dead." Said Bullseye.

"Christ." Mumbled Peters, "What're we supposed to do?"

"Stay put."

"Are you alright, sir?" asked Sullivan, an uneasy feeling brewing.

"They got me, in the leg."

"I know, you just sound different."

"I'm taking the car." Said Bullseye as he reached for the car's handle.

Within a second, Sullivan found the uneasy feeling in his stomach to be justified. As Bullseye leaned, a small black spot peaked from under his woolen cap, a tuft of hair on the previously bald-headed Bullseye.

"Shoot him." Said Sullivan, reaching for his gun.

"What?"

"That's not Bullseye!"

'Bullseye' swung the door open and ducked behind it as the two men pulled out their guns and fired, before hastily getting in and slamming the door behind him.

The imposter removed the wool cap, revealing a head far from bald. His feature shrunk and extended, growing longer and narrower, changing to that of someone else entirely.

O'Brien flinched as bullets bounced off the windshield, he reached to the cop holder and removed a styrophome cop of coffee, beneath it finding the key. He eagerly slaipped it into the ignition and started the ignition. The engine started with a roar, prompting O'Brien to hit the gas pedal as hard as he could, tearing the car away and out of the ally.

-------------------------------------------------

Mona and Sayid ran across the street,

-----------------------------

_Portland Island_

The stolen car slowed down as it entered the neighborhood known as St. Mark's, despite being pursued by a police car. Lana looked through the windshield at rum-looking men in dark suits as they walked the streets, holding automatic weapons in plain sight. It was clear to anyone who was the law in this part of the city, to Lana, and certainly to the driver of the police car behind them. The wail stopped and the police car slowed down and turned around, heading back to somewhere he could hold some authority, and away from the mafia's turf.

"Here's to crime." Mumbled Priest with satisfaction, "We're here."

"Are you kidding? We're supposed to get to a submarine."

"Don't arge. Trust me." Said Priest as the car coasted up an incline, once at the top, Priest gestured toward a mansion that stood at the end of the street before the road started to descend again.

"See that mansion? Used to belong to the don of the Leone mob, but he's dead and the new boss didn't move in, so it's basically deserted."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Open your window."

Priest stepped on the gas pedal, the car accelerated forward. The two mafia guards at the gate didn't react in time and only managed to get a shot at the hood of the car before one was hit and rolled over the car's roof, while the other was incapacitated by a bullet in the shoulder.

The car traveled briefly through the mansion's uneven ground before it Priest hit the brakes.

"Get out." Said Priest as he bolted out of the car in an instant, Lana got out and followed him to the ledge of the hill on which the mansion was built. Priest walked down the steep incline, to the sandy shore below. Lana followed him, cautiously making her way at less than half his pace.

Lana couldn't put her feeling of betrayal aside, Deep Throat's words was all she could hear in her head ever since she heard them thirty minutes ago, and in a small part was tempted to surrender to the league just so she could bring as many of them down with her. But for the moment, she was glad to be alive, and every step she took down the hill felt like a little victory to her. The sun sank below the horizon, mere minutes, if not moments away from sunset, while her undesired guardian stood by the shore, a distance away from the foot of the hill, looking north where the submarine was docked a kilometer away.

As she approached the bottom, Priest turned around to face her. He was still wearing his skin-tight black mask, but still, for that brief moment, she could see beyond the dark shroud and see that something had suddenly went wrong.

Lana didn't hear any sounds as blood sputtered out of Priest's chest, a split second before he fell over; not a bang from a gun or even a cry of pain, just a faint thud as his body hit the sand.

Lana panicked, she instinctively turned around to look uphill, doing so too fast she lost her footing, slipped and took a long tumble down the rest of the hill.

-----------------------

Gah! Writer's block!

Yes, the minutemen's car was a decpticon all along.

**R&R**

**Next Chapter:** Next chapter is really good. It has gore, Priest being defiant and Shaun getting blooded. You don't want to miss it. Be here, same opposition time, same opposition place.


	50. Blooded

**Now**

_Portland Island, Liberty City_

As Lana approached the bottom, Priest turned around to face her. He was still wearing his skin-tight black mask, and yet, for that brief moment, she could see beyond the dark shroud and see that something had suddenly went wrong.

Lana didn't hear any sounds as blood sputtered out of Priest's chest, a split second before he fell over; not a bang from a gun or even a cry of pain, just a faint thud as his body hit the sand.

Lana panicked, she instinctively turned around to look uphill, doing so too fast she lost her footing, slipped and took a long tumble down the rest of the hill.

The fugitive lay on her back, twenty feet away from where Priest stirred on the ground. She spat out some blood; on her way down, she'd cracked two ribs, sprained an ankle and broke one of her back teeth. Lana surrendered, with her injuries and Priest in worse condition condition, she had neither the hope nor the means to escape; the simple act of turned her neck to see the person descending down the hill felt like all the physical effort she could handle.

The shooter was a young woman of uncharacteristically slight build, decked in black clothes and armed to the teeth. She was pale skinned, dark haired and moved with contained aggression.

Lana closed her eyes and looked heavenward as Mandy walked up to her, but instead of a bullet, a kick to the side of the head knocked her out unconscious.

Mandy took a look at both unmoving bodies before she removed a hand from her assault rifle to produce a phone, she dialed a number and spoke as soon as the other end picked up.

"I have Lana Lang incapacitated at Liberty Quays. She must have been about to rendezvous with a submarine, I need a helicopter at the location and get the navy to send-"

_"I'm sorry but the reception is awful; could you repeat that?"_

Mandy sighed in frustration and held the phone directly before her lips,

"I'm at Liberty Q-"

If the other end could have received anything at all, it was just a bang before the phone shattered in Mandy's hand.

In rapid reflex, Mandy let go of the shattered remains of her phone and took hold of her rifle again, aimed it at where the bang came from. Priest was half-sitting up, leaning on his elbow and holding the smoking gun Lana had found in the stolen car. Mandy pulled the trigger; a barely audible burst of machine gun fire tore through Priest's forearm and prevented him from taking the second shot.

"Jesus, you **are** relentless." Said Mandy advancing forward to kick the fallen gun into the water. As the sun set and the sky started to grow darker, she took a moment to look at the palm of her gloved hand in mild awe.

"Amazing. You didn't even graze the leather; a one in a million shot."

"I was aiming for your face, bitch." growled Priest.

"Oh, really?" Mandy quipped as she leaned down and swiftly pulled the mask off of Priest's head.

"Well well, as I live and breathe," Mandy said, "Judas Priest himself, you've made a lot of powerful people upset."

"Yeah, would you like me to autograph your bra"

Mandy smirked as she pulled the trigger once more, firing another burst of bullets into Priest's thigh. Priest groaned painfully and wriggled on the ground, but he did not scream.

"Aren't you wondering how I found you?"

Priest didn't answer, and simply looked at Mandy hatefuly.

"You got sloppy, you should have killed that old lady who's car you stole. She told me what car you were driving." Said Mandy as she fired at the other leg.

Priest's back arched as he fought back the pain.

"Fuck! I'm down, alright!" barked Priest, "Stop shooting I'm not going anywhere!"

"Felix Leiter would give his remaining leg to get a piece of you, it was made clear that you and the reporter were to be brought back alive and the rest to be killed.

"Screw him. You're going to pay, your bastard." Said Mandy as she tore Priest's foot to pieces with a burst of gunfire, earning not a whimper of pain, but a scowl of defiance.

"Scream, damn it!" shouted Mandy as she shot Priest in the shoulder.

Priest tightened his lips and closed his eyes tight, doing all in his power to deny her the pleasure of his suffering.

"Little lady, you ain't shit."

"I'd be impressed if you didn't disgust me." Said Mandy as she removed her rifle and tossed aside, and then took a gun from her holster and cocked it.

"That was just an appetizer." She said as she took aim at Priest knee and pulled the trigger.

This time Priest didn't hold anything back, he screamed bloody murder as his kneecap shattered. He screamed as long and as hard as he had ever. The pain was exquisite, and lingering, the likes of which Priest had experienced rarely, if recently.

"It's a wonderful thing, silver." Mused Mandy as she took another shot, this time aiming at his clenched fist.

"And I have three whole clips of it."

Mandy lowered her gun, waiting for Priest to cease his animalistic wail of anguish.

"See, I made a point of studying you. I know the strength and vulnerabilities of your…. _species_. Regular ammo feels like a bee-sting, unless it causes a heart injury, and in that case it'll knock you off your feet and slow you down for a little while, right? Silver, on the other hand, feels like a red-hot knife dipped in acid, and one in the heart will **kill** you. Right? But, if I avoid the heart, well…."

Mandy fired again, and again and again until her gun clicked empty.

Priest heaved on the ground, the dozen bullets freshly fired into his stomach felt like barbed wire being dragged on his insides. He wanted to pass out, to scream, but could not. Mandy watched callously as Priest regurgitated onto the sand by his head, a foul blend of bile, blood and innards that promptly burned to ash.

"Did you get off on it? Did doing what you did to her, throwing her out of a window, using her to break your own fall, shattering her spine. Did it make you tight in the pants?"

"please…" Priest rasped weakly,

"…you don't even know …. her name."

Mandy's face failed to betray her emotions. In the distance, the sound of a helicopter ominously approached.

"You hear that? That's death's wings, he's coming for you. You've sowed evil for three hundred years and your time is now up."

Priest closed his eyes, no longer having the strength to keep them open. His senses waned, the world grew quieter.

"Actually, it sounds like my ride is nearly here, so we're going to wrap this up quick." Said Mandy as she loaded a fresh clip of silver bullets into her gun.

Priest moaned in agony, opening his eyes, as the first bullet plunged into his shoulder.

"I could do this all day, and come tomorrow morning, I'll probably regret that I didn't."

The second shot hit Priest in the chest, puncturing his lung.

"The others are next." Said Mandy as she took her third shot, getting closer to the heart, "Sayid Jarrah… Lucy Wagner… Shaun Collier. They're all going to get it. Even that little whore of yours, Mona Sax, she'll get it worst than the others. I'll see to it."

Mandy took her fourth shot, the slug plunged two inches away from Priest heart. She took her aim for the fifth time. Through his pain, Priest could see Mandy only as a blur, but the look in Mandy's eyes was as clear as day, and looking into cobalt blues he learned that she truly was about to kill him. She was holding her gun with absolute steadiness, directly aimed at his heart.

"Any defiant last words?"

"My little whore…. is going…. to kill you."

"No she won't." said Mandy as she tightened her finger on the trigger,

"We're done fucking around."

Priest closed his eyes, defeated, waiting for the life, his failures and triumphs, to flash before his eyes before it all ended with a bang that he thought was long overdue. The bang finally came. Priest's senses ceased, he remained as he was, waiting for something to claim him, the fires of hell or the abyss of oblivion.

The sound of a thud brought Priest's senses back. He could hear the traffic from the city, he could feel the wet sand under his remaining finger tip, and he could smell the ocean , burning cordite and the stench of his bloody and ashen vomit.

Priest opened his eyes; Mandy's own looked back at his. But there was something different. Gone was the rage and the fire and the lust for vengeance, to be replaced with abject fear, and pain.

Mandy was slumped on the shore right next to him, chest down, bleeding from the neck. She was alive, but only barely, paralyzed, the placement of the exit wound in the center of her throat, and a fragment of bone lodged in the wound indicating that her spine had shattered upon the bullet's entry.

Priest braved through the excruciating pain of moving his neck, to blurrily see someone standing by where Mandy had stood moments ago, his hand still outreached, holding a gun.

"We're not fucking around anymore, either." Said Shaun as he lowered his gun.

"Frank… Issat you?" asked Priest weekly.

"It's Shaun."

"Sh-sh…." Priest struggled to say.

"It's alright, Priest, everything is under control." Said Shaun as he took a couple of steps forward and lowered his gun, not to cease using it, but to aim at a lower target.

A single tear dripped down Mandy's eye. Priest looked into Mandy's eyes and saw a look of sorrow, regret and disappointment. It was a look all too familiar to Priest, he'd seen it in the eyes of all the men and women he'd killed down all the years. Defeat, despair and disappointment.

"Mina…" whispered Priest, extending a hand to caress her cheek, as it much as it pained him, "Her name is Mina."

As the corner of Mandy's mouth twitched with what could have been gratitude, Shaun pulled the trigger once more. Mandy's pupils dilated, and gone was the look in her eyes. She was dead, to feel love, rage and scorn no more.

In the distance Priest could hear the steady purr of a speedboat motor.

"What was that all about?" asked Shaun.

"Nothing." Mumbled Priest, dipping the tip of his fingers into Mandy's wound, "Help me up."

Shaun did as Priest bade him, helping him to his mutilated and shattered legs. As he held him up, his mentor brushed his face with his hand, smearing him with his victim's blood.

"What what are you doing?"

"You're blooded, Shaun." Said Priest painfully, holding his stomach closed with one hand, "You've graduated, killer."

"Blooded? What are you talking about?"

Priest did not respond, he was simply looking into Shaun's eyes with bewildered awe. Suddenly, he collapsed to the ground.

"Jesus, Priest. She got you good."

"Silver poisoning…" mumbled Priest, "Get me to Doctor Robert."

* * *

**Six Hours Later**

_Gotham City, Maryland_

Though she's been a facilitator of death for years, Diana Burnwood never quite managed to foster composure in it' presence. The tiny hairs on her forearm spiked as she walked into the morgue. It was almost completely deserted, all the cadavers were in the walls, and only one light at the center was open. Diana tightened her coat as she moved between the autopsy tables, heading to where the light shone.

Mina stood by an autopsy table, looking down at the body of her departed love. With the tips of her fingers, she pulled back strands of Mandy's hair, tucking them neatly behind her ear.

"You'd better have a good reason for being here."

The Director's voice sent a chill through Diana's spine, it wasn't the composed hostility, or the veiled threat, but the shaky voice in which she said it, Diana could tell that Josephine was fighting to keep emotion and tears in check.

"Now."

Diana's knees wobbled. She was the bearer of bad news, yet was in the uncomfortable position of having no choice in delaying.

"It's… It's the chairman." Said Diana and cleared her throat, "He found out, madam Director. About Lang, the attack from a month ago, about Liberty City. Everything."

Diana waited for her superior's reaction, but there was none until a minute later.

"Alright. Wait for me at the office."

Diana paused for a moment before she retreated as fast as she could without showing disrespect.

Mina grabbed the edge of the sheet covering most of Mandy's body and before pulling it up to cover her face she whispered,

"I'm sorry."

Ok, so NOW Hughes is dead.

**Next Chapter:** The opposition convene in the British countryside to celebrate McNeil's drop from the presidential race, and over drinks, Barbossa tells the story of the very first time the opposition made a move against the League.


	51. Chapter 51

**Four Days Later**

_Sanford, Gloucestershire, England_

"So this is what you've been doing all year long, Jack?" asked Barbossa with as he nursed the glass of brandy in his hand, "Sitting in a cottage in the countryside, while the rest of us do all the hard work."

Mason smiled warmly as he sipped from his own glass, then said,

"Some of us aren't going to live forever, Hector. We try and enjoy the fruits of your labor while you can."

"Thinking like a pirate, I like that." Said Barbossa, just as Jenny came walking into the study, with Nemo following not too far behind.

"What are you two old men talking about now?"

"Hector was just voicing an opinion about my current status as a gentleman of leisure."

"Oh, don't mind him, John. You do what makes you happy." Said Jenny as she sat on the leather couch, resting against Barbossa's side.

"All joking aside, Jack," said Barbossa, "Doesn't it get dull sitting in this house? Don't you miss being out there?"

"Not really. Being a soldier or a spy was never what I really desired, if given a fresh start; I'd be a poet or a farmer. Are we set?"

"Certainly." Said Nemo.

* * *

**One Day Earlier**

"Impressive." Said Nemo, removing the long, cold, black piece of metal from the green linen pouch that housed it. He lifted it up with both hands, measuring its weight. The katana was a little less than three feet long, the handle made of silver onyx, the sheathe indistinctly carved and lined with silver.

"Aye, it is." Said Mashu as he leaned on the island at the center of Mason's kitchen.

Nemo slowly slid the sheathe off, savoring in the sound of the resulting zing. Then looked at the ancient blade. Still sharp.

"Most impessive." Mumbled Nemo, "I trust getting it wasn't easy?"

"Hatori Hanzo had to call in a dozen or so favors." Said Mashu, "Sam nearly lost his fingers. I nearly lost my face…"

"Mr. O'Shaughnessy…"

"Yeah, sorry. No, it wasn't easy."

"How is Mister Hanzo?"

"Mister Hanzo's fine and dandy. Except… Well, we, the three of us that is, we were wondering what need to we have with this sword."

"Do you know what this sword is?"

"Hanzo said it could be Kusanagi." "Exactly. This sword… is a thing of legend, born of divinity. And as such, fit to slay that that is most unholy."

"Like?"

"Someday, I might tell you." Said Nemo, gripping the handle and stretching his arm, before swinging it to cut the air. His heart fluttered as he heard a ring.

"But for now, you don't need to know. I will tell you what to do with it, however."

"I'm listening."

"Take it to Gotham City."

"The states? What for?"

"I'll give you the precise coordinates. You'll find an entrance to a defunct train station appropriated for our use. In there you'll find your old friend, Father Mackenzie."

"Father Patrick is in the states? To do what?"

Nemo looked at him with a meaningful look.

"Alright. Yeah. I don't need to know." Said Mashu with a sigh, "I assume I have to leave right now?"

"There's no hurry." Said Nemo, returning his attention to the katana, holding the handle with both hands,

"Leave tomorrow. I'll hang onto it until then, you do what you want in the meantime."

* * *

**Now**

"Good evening, Inspector." Said the desk sergeant, not looking up from the novel he read where he sat, "Danny's brought the evidence in minutes ago."

"Sorry, I'm here for someone."

The sergeant looked up and saw Shaun standing behind the plate glass window, he chuckled and said,

"Oho! I thought you were our inspector!"

"Yeah, I gathered that much." Said Shaun, "A friend of mine was brought in here last night."

"Name? I know who it is, we only have the one bloke brought in last night, but it's a formality."

"His name is Priest."

_**---------**_

A buzzer sounded and the lock automatically clicked open. An elderly police officer opened the door, allowing Shaun in.

"You took your time." Said Priest, laying down on his bunk and facing the wall with his eyes closed.

"Would you give us a minute?" asked Shaun.

"Just one." Said the officer, barely audibly before leaving.

"We thought about bringing in Kroenen and Mona to bust you out, but then we decided to wait the four hours until you could be released."

"Four hours?" asked Priest as he sat up, "It felt longer."

_**---------**_

"What happened?"

"I was in the pub," explained Priest as he and Shaun walked down the street, propping up his jacket collar and pulling down his hat as low as possible, "I was trying to watch MacNeil giving her big speech, only today's the big match with Germany. Well, one thing led to another, there were words exchanged, harsh word, my mother was mentioned, the other guys little sister was mentioned, and then Scotland was mentioned…. And then it was on."

"That exactly is why Mason asked you not to head into town, you know. It's not unlike we didn't have a TV at the manor."

"Well, look at you; little Shaun Collier, all grown up. Saving my life and telling me why Mason asked me to stay at the farm."

"What happened to the others?"

"They'll live. There were four of them, huge bastards from Glasgow, and nobody saw me throw the first punch, so technically it was in self defense. Anyway, just when I was sitting down to watch the rest of the speech, in came the fuzz. Oh, and the Inspector? Your spitting image. Un-friggin-canny."

There was a long silence as the two men walked.

"You know Sayid quit?"

"I noticed he hadn't been around lately."

"He's leaving for L.A.. I tried to talk to him, but he wasn't in a talking mood. I think it's something to do with that Oceanic Six business he used to be a part of."

"He was reading a newspaper the other day, that Watts girl who work's for Mason brought a stack of them to read about McNeil's drop from the race. There was something he read that he didn't like, Lucy said it was something about a man called Jeremy Bentham."

"It's starting to unravel."

"What do you mean?"

"This whole thing, but yeah, us too. You didn't really think we were here for a retreat, did you? Barbossa and Nemo are here, we'll probably see Al-Sheikh soon too. They're gearing up for the big one. We've brought this thing to the brink, all out war is imminent. I wonder what they'll have me do?"

* * *

"What about our mole?" asked Jenny.

"Miss Watts informs me that miss Kendall is growing frustrated, she assesses that she might even blow her cover."

"Are you going to pull her?"

"Possibly." Said Mason, "If we do, we'd better find someone else to take kill Bond."

"We have something to try in that case," said Nemo, "But I'd rather keep it as a measure of last resort."

"Remind me."

"The death note." Said Nemo, "We managed to acquire a piece in march."

"How much?" asked Jenny.

"Wait, what's he talk about?" asked Barbossa.

"Just a scrap, enough for one name. Or two if we use both sides." Said Nemo.

"What's the death note?" asked Barbossa.

"I'd told you before," said Jenny, "It's paper with divine qualities, you write someone's name in it, with their image in your mind, and they die of a heart attack within fifteen minutes."

"What? That's absurd."

"Said the man who dips in the fountain of youth once every five years."

"Not every marvel is like the next." Said Mason, "And you have to admit-"

"I know," said Nemo, "Which is more the reason not to use at this juncture. Look, what about Bond's bodyguard?"

"Michael Costas? I know where this is going," said Jenny, "George won't have any of it."

"We might not have any other options, Jenny."

"Ask George into arranging for us to capture his brother and he's likely to do anything beside comply. He'd know what we could do to get what we wanted out of Michael, and he won't allow it."

"Well in that case, Miss Kendall will have to be persuaded to remain undercover for the time being." Said Nemo, "Jack?"

"I'll see to it," said Mason, "Try a personal touch, see if I can persuade her to endure."

"What about Wilhelmina Jekyll?" asked Jenny, "Are you all so sure about this? I mean, of all people, Dorian Gray?"

"I assure you, mister Gray is a changed man from when you knew him."

"I find that hard to believe." Said Jenny, "I'm not questioning your judgment, Nemo. I just figured you'd send Priest after her."

"Priest is about the last person to send after Josephine, she simply out of his league. True, he dealt her a great upset in Gotham, twice. But that only means she's expecting him, and prepared to meet him. Dorian is, was, like your friend Sparrow, of the third camp. She'd grown to expect that he will never join either side. Likely, his mere appearance will throw her off her game, giving him the upper hand."

"Are you sure? She wouldn't let someone like him out of her sight, her former lover, no less."

"She does indeed have several people shadowing Mr. Gray," said Mason, "And all of them had been discovered, contacted and either paid off or coerced into reporting to her that Dorian is in Sudan, doing missionary work."

* * *

God, it took my forever to do this. I started over half a dozen times, but writer's block prevented me from doing anything of note. The idea was that this and the next chapter would be told by Barbossa, a story set in the fifties and staring Jenny, featuring Nigel Powers and a Young Bond. But alas, it was not to be. I contemplated throwing in the towel, even wrote a final chapter in which I revealed everything that would have happened if I cintinued. But for now, the story will go on.

**Next Chapter**

Al-Sheikh informs the minutemen of their last mission, a simply industrial sabotage gig. But will everything go without a hitch, especially with their numbers down by one?

R&R.


	52. Opposition Dogs

**Two Days Ago**

_Sanford, Gloucestershire, England_

"Your next mission won't trump your last." said Al-Sheikh, extinguishing his cigarette in an ashtray in Mason's parlor, "But there's no room for error, you get one chance at it. One day, and we all retire to the volcano."

Shaun and Lucy exchanged a look as Al-Sheikh went on.

"As you know, Project Phoenix is funded by the sails of a highly addictive narcotic called Substance C. Since we've made that discovery months ago, the Red October and the Black Pearl and the Yellow Submarine had interrupted and destroyed random shipments of this drug heading to European shores. However, there remains a sizeable market for it, particularly in Amsterdam and Brussels. While there surely is some production of it in Europe, we know that over Eighty-Percent of the drugs are manufactured in the states. Due to the combined efforts of the New York cell and several roving operatives, such as Mister Barnes, we know exactly where.

"You will infiltrate the facility, plant the timed explosive charges, defeat any opposition you may meet and then leave. You will be informed of the specifics of your mission during transport."

"Where to?" asked Mona.

* * *

**Now**

_Phoenix, Arizona_

"You ever think Ziggy Stardust maybe works for the League?"

All eyes turned to O'Brien. Who remained of the minutemen were sitting on both sides of a table in a booth in a diner, having a late lunch of stakes and burgers.

"Ziggy Stardust, the rock star?" asked Priest as he took cut a bite of his very rare steak.

"You mean the one who insists he's from Mars?" asked Shaun.

"Yeah, that guy." Said O'Brien, "I mean, I realize the Martian thing is a gimmick, but-"

"I'm not so sure about that." Said Priest as he chewed, "I saw his concert in L.A. back in January. I had great seats at the front, and I could sense there was something up with him. He doesn't smell right."

"Rrrright." Said Mona with a smirk.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Do you find Martians hard to believe? Look into my vampire eyes and say that again."

"Sure, but just because one thing I thought wasn't real existed doesn't mean I have to believe in everything."

"Man, it's documented! 1901! England had an extra-terrestrial invasion!"

"Yeah, I heard about that. Everyone did. It's part mass-hysteria, part long-range hoax."

"Come on!"

"Hey, you weren't there!" said Mona, "Weren't you in Paris losing your virginity around that time?"

"What?" asked Lucy, wide-eyed.

"Um… I was losing my human virginity. I had been with several vampire ladies before that." Said Priest.

"Not the issue. Were or were you not in England at the time?"

"…No."

"I rest my case."

"Guys," said O'Brien, taking a sip of his drink, "You're making me loose my train of thought here."

"Okay, Eel." Said Lucy, "No, we've never suspected that Ziggy Stardust, the allegedly Martian rock star, is employed by the League. Why would we?"

"Have you heard that album of his? The first track. It says that the world is ending in Five Years. The album was recorded and came out in 2007, so he's saying that the world is ending in 2012! Well, Phoenix is ending in 2012!"

"That's it?" asked Mona, "The world ending in 2012 is a Mayan prophecy. That's probably where he got it from."

"Not to mention that assuming Mr. Stardust does know about Phoenix," said Shaun, "Him working for the League wouldn't make sense since first, what do the League gain from it, and secondly, why would he sing about the world ending when the League's goal is to manipulate us all into coexisting peacefully?"

"Well, good question. Um… Think about it. Three years from now, when the nukes are flying, people will look back on what he sang and they'll say; 'Jesus! The Martian was right!'…. Then they would turn to him, they'd hang onto his every word. He could be the President of Earth for life."

"…That actually makes some sense."

"Unless he really is a Martian," said Priest, "Sent to deliver a message of hope before its too late."

There was an awkward moment of silence before everyone that wasn't Priest burst laughing, electing curious looks from the dinner staff and other patrons.

"Priest, I think I read somewhere that he's this bloke from London called David Jones or something."

"Precisely." said Priest, "London. Where a failed Martian invasion occurred in 1901. Coincidence?"

"Priest, I'm starting to worry about you."

"If I recall, O'Brien, it was you that went up against a certain man of steel. Where do you think that guy came from, Kansas?"

"You really think Superman is from outer space?" asked Mona.

"That's what he said. Why, what's your theory, Professor Sax?"

"Hey, I dunno. You hear about these mutants all the time, no reason to suspect he's not one of them."

"Come on.."

"I know what you're going to say, but mutation is a scientific occurrence, unlike aliens."

"Funny you should mention that," said Shaun, "I always thought Super-man was just something Americans made up until I saw him with my own two eyes. And there's a lot of people who don't believe in zombies, and I would if I didn't know better. You never know, really."

"Thanks for the support, Shaun."

"augh…. Can we change the subject?" asked Mona, "To sports or whatever."

"Actually, I'd like to talk a bit more about Superman." Said Lucy, "Or all that other mans."

"I was glad when I first heard about Superman and Batman," said Priest, "Regular cops are too easy."

"You went up against Superman?"

"No, but I enjoyd thinking about it. Gave me something to look forward to. But before I met Nemo, I pulled a couple of jobs in Gotham without running into the Batman."

"Yeah. I think I'd rather go up against Batman than Superman." Said Shaun.

"I'm not too worried about Superman, I mean , I did make him fly away screaming." Said Lucy, "But Batman is a sneaky bastard, I probably wouldn't have time to hit him with a psychic attack."

"So you think Batman is the bigger badass?" asked O'Brien as the waitress came by with the check.

"Mona, what do you think?"

"I think I'm not ten years old anymore." Said Mona, "However, you'd have to see Supes and Batman from a characteristic point of view, rather than powers. Superman stands for hope, and doing things the right way. Batman stands for fear, and doing whatever works. Batman has a lot larger moral wiggle room, and he strikes me as being the smarter of the two. He just might come up on top.

"But if Superman would play on Batman's level, well, there'd be no question who would win. Batman can sneak around all he like, Superman has x-ray vision to see him and superspeed and superstrength to tear his head off before he can do anything."

"Wow, that sounds thought out."

"Well, there's not much to do in prison beside ponder stuff like that and read the bible." Said Mona as she stood up, "All done? No one wants dessert?"

Mona placed a few five dollar bills on the table, before picking up her red leather jacket and putting it on as she walked away.

"Time to go to work."

* * *

**Three Hours Later**

"Oh, god… I'm gonna die…" O'Brien moaned as he lay inside the helicopter, clutching onto his stomach, his words almost drowned out by the deafening roar of the helicopter rotor and the relentless bark of machine gun fire.

"You're not going to die, you pussy!" Priest shouted as he tossed crates and cases out onto the building's roof, "The bullet was through-and-through! You're not even bleeding!"

The operation had gone far from smoothly. As O'Brien was discovered by a security guard who promptly sounded an alarm. The minutemen, Kroenen included, were barely able to flee. Mona, Priest, Kroenen and O'Brien were injured in the process. In a recreation of their assignment in Gotham, they decided to attempt to hijack a news crew helicopter off the roof of TV station building.

Shaun gunned down the two men who'd burst to the roof, Mona turned to the helcipter, inside of which O'Brien, Priest and Kroenen were, while Lucy was at the pilot seat.

"How much longer?" asked Mona.

"Any second now." Answered Lucy, "Alright, get in."

Shaun and Mona climbed in, while keeping their guns trained to the outside, ready to interrupt the next onslaught of the League's agents. The helicopter started to rise, and the roof grew farther and farther.

"Too close…" mumbled Shaun as he released his finger from the trigger and set the automatic rifle aside. For the next fifteen minutes, silence reigned, until Lucy spoke.

"I don't think we're gonna make it. We don't have enough fuel."

"So put it down as close as you can." Said Shaun, "We'll make the rest of the way on foot."

"No." Said Mona, "We land, they'll catch us."

"Not much choice in it, we have too much weight and not enough fuel. And we've already emptied everything out."

"…What if we drop Kroenen?" asked Shaun, looking at the familiar as he sat on the floor, holding onto his tonfas.

"We drop Kroenen and Lucy looses control over him, all the death after that would be on us." Said Priest.

"Then what?" asked Shaun.

"Then buy me a beer when I get back."

"What?" asked Mona.

"I'll see you in the funny pages, cupcake." Said Priest as he opened the door, then leaned out and allowed gravity to tear him away.

"Priest!"

Mona crawled to the open door and looked out in a futile attempt to see what had become of him, but Priest was gone. Mona closed the door and sat on the bench by Shaun.

"What now?" she asked.

"We're good." Said Lucy, "We might make it."

Mona looked out the window at the brightly lit city below and sighed.

"You little asshole."

* * *

In case you're wondering what all that was about, I just felt like wallowing in self indulgence and doing a homage to Reservoir Dogs, thus the discussion about Ziggy Stardust and Aliens.

**Next Chapter**

Prepare to meet a woman called Erika. Sound familiar?

R&R.


	53. Chapter 53

**One Day Later**

_Basin City, Nevada_

The ride was long to Sin City. On the day before he'd dusted himself off half as soon as he managed to get off the ground and then made himself scarce. He snuck onto the first train leaving from the nearest station he could get to and hid until they were out or Arizona.

And so he came, through the rain and through the mud to a sordid little place on the edge of town called Kadie's Bar. After a little resistance from the doorman, he made his way in and was instantly hit with the heavy bass of loud country music, and the toxic aroma of cheap bear, smoke, cordite, sweat and a few other bodily fluids.

With his eyes toward the young, nubile, blond woman gyrating around the pole onstage, Priest walked to the only empty seat by the cramped bar, recently vacated when the previous occupant's face met the elbow of the man sitting next to him, a towering, muscle bound creature with misshapen, scarred features and a torn leather trench coat on his shoulders.

"Boy, that Nancy sure is something. Isn't she?" said the man, who didn't sound better than he looked.

"Uh-huh." Priest muttered as he brushed broken teeth off the bar, "Vodka double. Keep 'em coming."

Seconds passed and Priest's drink arrived. Seconds gave way to minutes as Priest and the brute at his side tossed back drink after drink and looked up at the girl in silence as she continued her dance number, turning blood to fire in the veins of every man in the room with every piece of thread she slipped off.

People came and went, the girl's number ended and she picked up enough clothes to cover herself before jumping off the bar to a backroom. Only the stench of the place and the brute to his right remained the same.

"I said keep 'em coming." Said Priest, finding his glass empty for too long.

"We're outta Vodka." Said the barmaid.

"How? This is a bar."

"I know what this place is. No one ever drinks our Vodka. What are ya, Russian?"

"Rushing? Nah, I got all night. I'll have a Duff's bear, and keep 'em coming."

Priest had come to regret his decision to jump from the chopper. He wasn't a big man; the loss of his weight wouldn't have made much of a difference. He was rash as usual, and cocky. Nevertheless, it was too late at that point, and not really an issue. They all had standing orders incase this happened. A cargo plain was leaving from Basin City International Airport to the United Kingdom tomorrow afternoon. He would be on it. All he had to do was sit tight and get into a minimum amount of trouble until then.

"Hey buddy, you ever been to war?" asked the brute, his intoxication apparent in his voice.

Suddenly, something changed. The aroma had changed subtly for a brief moment; a new variable introduced itself to the environment before merging into everything else, a scent that reminded him of sour wine and times long gone.

"No." answered Priest without thinking. He looked over his shoulder, to where the scent could have come from.

"Never been ta Kha Sanh?"

Something caught Priest's eye. A woman, small and of her mid-twenties, medium length golden locks tied in a ponytail. He only saw her for a brief second before she disappeared to the other side of the bar.

"Nope."

"Ya remind me of some asshole company man I once met. Or wazzat somewhere else…"

"Erika?" mumbled Priest to himself and gulped the remaining of his bourbon, set the glass on the bar and stared into space for the better part of a minute before his curiosity got the best of him.

He reached into his pocket and took out a few ten dollar bills and slapped them onto the bar before jumping off and crossing the dimly lit room, taking a few sporadic breaths, trying to home in on that specific scent. He soon found himself upon her, standing three feet behind her as she sipped from a daiquiri.

"Erika?"

Calmly she placed the glass on the bar, but did nothing further. For a second, Priest thought she didn't hear him.

"Erika, it's me. It's Judas."

After another moment of no reaction, she turned around slowly to face him. Priest smirked in spite of himself.

"Oh my… Can it really be you?"

"You really are alive…" Erika muttered in an English accent, and then without any other word or gesture, Erika struck Priest across the face.

"Ow. You're definitely you."

"How did you find me?"

"I wasn't looking." Said Priest and paused, looking for the right words, "I dunno what to say…. Can we talk?"

"Are you joking? I haven't seen you in a long time, frankly not enough… There's nothing to talk about."

"Well, we are married. That's got to count for something."

"Married? Really?"

"We never got a divorce, so yeah. Look, why don't you let me buy you a drink…"

"Get away from me."

"Erika, come on…"

"You make sick to my stomach. I don't want to be in the same room with you." Said Erika as she picked up her purse and prepared to storm away, but Priest caught her by the arm and forced her to face him.

"I know you hate me, but I'm different. I just want to –"

"Hey, hombre!" said the brute as he stood up and lumbered towards them, "The lady said to leave her alone."

"Well, buddy. She's my goddamn wife, so if you please, a little space…"

"She doesn't want to talk to you, and I'm guessing she's got he reasons for that… What did you do, beat her?"

"Yes, he did!"

Priest looked toward Erika with wide eyes, but said nothing.

"He did?" asked the brute in a drunken growl, "Man, it gets my goat when guys rough up dames!"

"Listen, it was-"

* * *

"A long time ago…" Priest mumbled as he sprang to consciousness. He was lying in a puddle of dirty water ten feet outside Kadie's, wrapping his fingers around the hand of an opportunistic vagrant who was in the process of robbing him.

The vagrant let go of Priest' belongings, and scurried away as soon as his fingers loosened. Priest slowly sat up and got to his knees, and spat out a pair of his maulers as he did so.

"Well, that was gratifying."

Erika stood nearby, her hands buried in her buttoned coat's pockets.

"You're a cold, hard bitch.…" said Priest, straightening his jacket and heading for the door.

"Why? Are you going to say I lied? Do you die ever laying a hand on me? Or are you going to say that it was the norm at the time, where we were?"

"I wasn't going to say that."

"You were thinking it."

Priest hung his head.

"Maybe… You're right, Erika. I haven't the right to talk to you. Now if you'll excuse me..."

"You're going back in there?" asked Erika, reaching into her pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Don't see why not."

"Hmm."

Erika lit her cigarette, took a puff and said as Priest stood a foot away from the door,

"Well, as I do appreciate the fact you're about to be stabbed and shot at, I'll be down the road at a little Greek place, Poppa's Olympian Palace. If you want to… talk."

Erika walked past him and down the road, smoking her cigarette.

"Why the change of heart?" asked Priest, but his wife walked on down the road, and said nothing.

* * *

"Here you go…" said the old proprietor in a thick Greek accent, serving two cups of coffee, "It's almost closing time, but we're open for a lovely young couple like you."

"We're getting a divorce." Erika quipped.

"We are?" asked Priest, "I guess we are."

The proprietor awkwardly joined his wife at the corner and eyed the two suspiciously.

"I guess that was the cause for the change of heart."

"I thought you were dead for sure five years ago."

"I guess you did. Most of us LaMagrans collapsed and ashed that year."

"So why didn't you?"

"The devil's not ready yet, I dunno."

"Have any others survived?"

"Not to my knowlde. How about the illustrious progeny of Marcus Corvinus?"

"You don't know?"

"I've spent decades living among the humans, I don't move in those circles."

"We're in dwindling numbers…The three elders are dead."

"Even Marcus?"

"Yes, our own little cupid met his end. Anyway, the house of Ördögház is gone. That's why I moved to the new world coven."

The couple drank their coffe silently for a second.

"I got to tell you, Erika. I'm not sure how we're getting a divorce. Is there a bloodsucker family court?"

"There is a ritual."

"Which is?"

"We cut off our ring fingers."

"Oh. Okay, if that's what you want."

"It is."

Both took sips of their cups of coffee.

"Just… Don't flatter yourself." Said Erika, lighting a cigarette, "I didn't exactly spend two-hundred years waiting on you to release me. I got over our wretched marriage a long, long time ago. I just want it to be over."

"Erika, I really am sorry. But can you dial down the scorned woman tirade a bit? I'm not the adulterer. You cheated on me, with my own brother!"

"…You… You know it was Abraxas' will."

"You could have refused."

"Refused? Have living among the humans for so long made you forget what that monster was like?"

"No. It didn't."

"And it wasn't like that anyway. We…."

"What?"

"Forget it, let's find a knife and get this over with."

"What, now you want to stop? Don't hold up."

"…It wasn't just …. I wasn't just doing it because Abraxas and Marcus wanted it. He was … He was caring."

"What?"

"Grigori. He cared for me… And when we were together, he was gentle… I may have loved you at a time, Judas, but to you, I was just something to use and be discarded when you were done."

"You loved my brother?" asked Priest, hanging his head in grief.

"Judas, look at me."

Priest looked up into his wife's eyes.

"I just wanted to see your eyes, now that you know. I'm sorry."

* * *

"You know that Grigori died in 2001?" asked Priest, walking side by side with Erika under pouring rain, the 'Palace' closing up in their wake.

"I'd heard. Did you ever see him before that?"

"No, I'd spent some time in Russia, working for the Romanovs, and I later found out that Grigori and his men were doing the same. Anyway, I'd only heard about it about a year ago."

"I saw him once… In the sixties. He was different, he wasn't the man I loved anymore."

"You know, I'm aware of the broad strokes. But do you mind telling me, what happened after I'd left?"

"Abraxas went mad with rage, he sent out troops to bring you back, and when his rage grew, to find you and kill you. He couldn't live with the idea that you were out there, having left his service of your own accord. You made every day for him torture for the ten years that followed.

"Grigori and I remained for a time, but it didn't last. It pained me to know of the things he'd do when he went out on raids, to other women especially. Then of course, Marcus's reign came to its end and it was Viktor's time. While Marcus and Abraxas had an alliance that led them to arrange our marriage, Viktor had nothing but the utmost detest for Abraxas, he disregarded the accord and arranged for me to be brought back."

"Did you have that grandson Abraxas wanted so bad?"

"No… It appears that it was me who was barren. Anyway, soon after I returned to Hungary, the news arrived of an uprising in the highlands. Apparently, a seventeen year old girl had gained amazing powers overnight."

"The slayer."

"Her arrival, coupled with your absence spelled the end of Abraxas Priest. After that, I just staid at Ördögház. Your kind was never popular there, so I was persona non grata for a while."

"Anyway, what about you?"

"I headed to France, in the beginning. Made my way through Europe, and then to Asia. It was in China that I gave up live feeding."

"Why?"

"I dunno… I just was never in the mood after everything happened. Anyway, a hundred years of wandering later, I worked for the Romanovs, I met another Grigori, as in Rasputin, bit of a wanker. I made my way back to France, then ended up in London, trying to work up the courage to get back to Scotland. I decided to give America a go, scored passage on the Titanic and managed to get to New York.

"I did a spot of work for the government from the forties to the sixties, fought in the wars as well. Oh, and I had a son."

"A son? Really?"

"Frank. Frank Lee. I spent a night with his mother once, and only found out about him when we fought together in Korea. I kept in touch with him in the years that followed. He died in '67."

"I'm sorry. Do you have any other family?"

"Not to my knowledge. Frank had a girlfriend who was pregnant at the time he died, but he'd left her, apparently it mightn't have been his. I don't now either way."

"Well, this is my building." Said Erika, standing by the steps of one of the better apartment buildings in the area, "Come on up, we'll get it done. Say, what brings you to this City?"

"Just passing though, I need to join some people somewhere else, so I won't stay for long."

* * *

Don't worry, it's all part of the plan.

**Next Chapter**

Mr. and Mrs. Priest's reunion takes a turn when Priest, who had been disillusioned with the opposition for some time, sees an opportunity and ponders leaving it all behind.


	54. Honeytrap

**Now**

_The Volcano_

"That dirty, old, misogynistic…" mumbled Mona as she threw the dart in her hand at a dartboard on the wall, "Argh!"

"Who's dirty, old and misogynistic?" asked Lucy, playing a game of solitaire on a billiard table in the game room.

"Old guts and bullshit. Priest, that's who."

"Well, he is old, and occasionally dirt. But misogynistic?"

"Maybe that was too strong a word. When we first met he had all these pet names for me; dollface, cupcake…"

"He also looks at your chest when he thinks you're not looking, mine too."

"Cupcake, that's what he called me right before he jumped out the chopper. Where the hell does he get off?"

"Well, he thought he was trying to save us. Of course, if he'd waited three more minutes for the weather to improve, we would have all been able to make it to the coast. Without anybody having to jump anywhere… Quite foolish, really."

"I'm going to shoot him next time I see him."

"Hmm. Could it be that you're worried about him?"

"Of course I am, I've spent pulled his ass out of the fire so many times that I lost count. It's not going to be for nothing."

"Well, if it's any solace, he's in Basin City. Last time we were there he was miserable. I'm sure he's having a bad time over there, right now."

* * *

_Basin City, Nevada_

"Well, I'm not sure you've changed." Said Erika with a smug smirk, tightening her robe around her and walking into the kitchen of her apartment, "But you have learned quite a few, amazing tricks."

"Why, thank you. You were a lovely audience." Said Priest as he sat on the edge of Erika's bed, putting a shirt on.

"Would you like some blood?"

"Sure."

"Any preferences?"

"I like Fish, but any will do."

"Fish? What I have is human blood. I meant what type. I have A, AB and O."

"Human?"

"Synthetic."

"Oh. AB is fine."

Erika opened her fridge and reached to get a bag of frozen blood. She emptied the bag into a container and placed it in the microwave to heat up.

"This place doesn't look like a home." Remarked Priest, looking around the apartment, it was plush, at least by Sin City standards, but devoid of any personal touches.

"It's not. It belongs to the coven, one of their children has strayed, so I have to stay in this place and keep an eye out for her. She does this all the time; usually it's a week until she's brought back to New York. So I shouldn't be here longer than a few days."

The microwave pinged, Erika opened it and took the pot out, then poured the bubbling blood into two glasses.

"Defrosted blood can be less then savory, but I find it best to add a splash of cognac. Anyway, what about you? You're leaving today?"

"That was the plan." Said Priest as he took the glass and drank from it.

"You said you were about to join some people?"

"The rest of my crew, yes."

"What does you crew get up to?"

"Oh, this and that."

"And would this and that be anything legal?"

"Well, I am a Priest."

"Hmm. We should do it."

"Again? Okay, sure, just give me a few more minutes."

"I meant the ritual." Said Erika, putting her glass down, and raising a kitchen knife.

"Oh, maybe not yet." Said Priest as he placed his empty glass on the counter.

"There's no point in putting it off."

"Maybe there is." Said Priest, "This crew that I'm catching up with, what if I don't?"

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying… Why don't we go somewhere? Or if you like, we can stay here, wait for your child of the coven to turn up then go somewhere, New York, LA; wherever you like."

"Are you saying you want to give us another chance?"

"Yeah."

Erika looked at incredulously for a moment.

"That's a warped sense of humor you've developed, husband."

"Well I'm not joking."

Erika sighed and looked away, then smiled, and got very close to Priest.

"Judas… That's very sweet of you, you were right when you said that you had changed. You did, for the better. And every minute since we got home last night was great… But nothing has really changed. We're just wrong for each other."

"I know that you think… that you were not important to me, that I didn't love you. But I did…"

"You had a hilarious way of showing it."

"Well, I know it's not an excuse, but my mother was murdered by a genocidal nutjob and my father **was** that genocidal nutjob. For a long time, my life was to do whatever my father wanted; murder, pillage… Then there came a day that what he wanted was for me to want you, and … It was different, a far cry from everything else I was made to do. All of a sudden, there were things I'd rather do and things I didn't. You stirred up a different kind of passion… I couldn't bear it."

"First of all, that made no sense to me. And second, it would just end in tears. Too much water under the bridge. Too many issues."

Priest hung his head.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I'm certain."

"Well, as long as you're certain."

"Do we each cut off our own finger, or does one of us do both?" asked Priest as he placed his palm down on the kitchen sink.

"I'll cut yours off and you cut mine off. I'll go first." Erika said as she picked up a knife.

"We can still be friends, you know."

"With benefits?"

"Sure," said Erika with a chuckle as she lightly pressed the edge of the blade to the base of Priest's ring finger, "why not."

Before Erika could apply anymore pressure, Priest's fingers wrapped tightly around her wrist.

"Ow! What the fuck are you doing? Take you hand off me!" Erika demanded in shock.

"You said you that I was really alive." Said Priest.

"What are you on about?"

"Last night at Kadie's, the first thing you said when you saw me was 'You really are alive'." Said Priest as he tightened his fingers, forcing her to relinquish the knife.

"You're hurting me, you bastard!"

"Not, 'Oh lord, you're alive', but 'You really are alive'. As if someone had told you that I **didn't** die along with all the other vampires of my breed. So who told you? Tell me or I'll-"

"You haven't changed," said Erika hatefully, "Not. One. Bit."

The window above Erika's bed shattered, sending shards of glass flying inward. Priest loosened his grip as he turned to look, allowing Erika to retreat into a tiny nook in the adjacent wall.

Two men came in through the shattered window, having rappelled in off the side of the building, they were decked in black armor from top to bottom, and wielded sophisticated looking rifles.

Before either of the two men could take another step, Priest picked up the knife off the sink and hurled it toward one the assailants. It lodged till the handle in the center of his head, he tumbled backwards and fell back through the window, ripping the blinds off and allowing sunlight into the dark apartment.

Before his partner fell to his death, the second man managed to get away from the window and onto to the floor, he took aim and fired at Priest as he charged for cover behind the kitchen island. Priest noticed that it didn't sound or smell like normal gunfire, bur rather sounded like a nail gun. All the shots missed him, save for one that struck him in the back of his hand. In the second it took him to look at it, he felt an excruciating electrical current rent through him. Through pain, he pried the electric dart out of his flesh with his teeth and spat it onto the floor.

Explosives darts detonated outside the apartment, blowing the door to bits and clearing the way for a team of gunmen outside.

Feeling himself increasingly surrounded, Priest grew desperate. He jumped up and charged the first man to come in. The gunman by the bed hesitated, fearing to hit his comrade. Priest sank his teeth into the large gunman's neck, tearing out a chunk of flesh and prying his gun out of his hands, he then pushed him out the door, using his large body as a shield against the rest of the team, and pulled the pin off a grenade that hung off of his bulletproof vest.

The second gunman took fire. Priest raised his gun just in time to catch the darts on the stock, and then aimed it at the gunman and fired a burst of electrical darts that struck the gunman in the chest. He fell to the ground with a painful yelp and shook in a violent spasm.

It all took a little more than two seconds. Priest sprang to shelter at the fridge's side. He looked down at Erika who shrunk in the corner and shot her a fiery stare.

The grenade exploded in the corridor outside with a bright light. It was a stun grenade, not incendiary. It was apparent that this armed unit was sent to capture him and bring him back alive.

"Severed fingers or not, this marriage is over." Priest muttered as he walked out the door. He aimed the gun at the stunned bodies in his path and sprayed them with electric as he head to the staircase, piecing everything in his mind.

They didn't make their move earlier because they were hoping Erika would get him to divulge where he was heading, or better yet offer to take her with him. He was on the verge of asking her to do so when Erika's remark from last night got back to him and made him suspicious.

The answer to how the league knew where to send Erika there or since how long was the answer he didn't have, and felt he could live without finding out.

The gun clicked empty, so he let it go, he ran the last few steps and jumped onto the railing. He looked down the spiraling staircase. Erika's apartment was on the ninth floor, but he'd managed to land right from much greater heights.

As Priest prepared to step off the railing, one of the gunmen he'd left in his wake managed through his blinding pain to raise his gun and squeeze. Perhaps that particular dart in him was defective, or perhaps his finger was already on the trigger and him squeezing was just the result of his pain. In the end, a single dark struck Priest's ankle and he lost his balance, and then plummeted all the way down.

**

* * *

**Priest painfully opened his eyes, oblivious to how much time had passed. The electric dart in his leg wasn't causing him any pain, apparently damaged by the fall. He sat up and looked at his legs to see the awful thing that had become of them; one was severally broken, he couldn't possibly get up. Desperately, he tried crawling away to the building's basement. He could hear more men on their way, and he was in no condition to fight.

It was futile, they were soon upon him. One of them kicked him in the face as he tried to stand up, and the rest joined in, kicking him repeatedly as he wriggled on the ground.

"Stop it!" cried Erika who'd come running down the staircase.

"You're hurting him!"

"That was the idea." Said a man in a suit as he grabbed her by the shoulders, restraining her, "Stop messing around!"

"He's had enough!"

"No, he hasn't." said the agent as he tried to pull Erika away. She whipped her head to the back, hitting him in the cheek and loosening his grip on her.

Erika went to pull the other men off of her battered husband, but then she heard a click from behind. She turned around to see the agent aiming a machine pistol at her.

"This gun has state-of-the-art UV-rounds. You know what will happen if I pull trigger."

"His legs are broken. What more can he do?"

One of the men fell to the ground, screaming and kicking as Priest gnawed into his ankle, tearing blood vessels and tendons apart, then taking a knife out of the fallen gunman's holster and plunging it into another's foot.

"That." Said the agent, "I told you not to get cocky, now let him have it. All of it. Pour it in!"

The gunmen opened fire, spraying Priest's torso full of electric darts.

"No!"

One of the gunmen turned around to strike Erika across the face with his rifle, the shooting soon came to an end after that.

The agent looked down at Priest and Erika, both of whom had lost consciousness, and the two wounded gunmen, groaning in agony.

"What were you thinking?"

"We're sorry, sir." Said one of the gunmen, "It's just… He's the one who killed Mazzucchelli and Finnerty. We saw it on the security footage, it was him!"

"That's not how we operate and you know it. You will all face disciplinary action for this "

"Reload, sir?" asked another gunman.

"No. Get Ruthven to provide medical attention to Pope and Archer."

The Agent handed one of the agents a thick, sealed envelope.

"Carry Mrs. Priest upstairs. Put her money somewhere she can find it. As for Mr. Priest, the rest of you chop his hands and feet off, then cover him up and prep him for transport."

"Really?"

"Try not to enjoy yourself too much." Said the agent with a smirk as he walked away.

"Hurry up, the director wants him in Gotham today."

* * *

BTW, Erika is the blond vampire from Underworld. Hope that was both unexpected and to your liking.

**Next Chapter**

When it becomes clear that Priest has been captured, the minutemen and their superiors decide what to do. There will be deliberation, a vote, a secret brought to light. And in the end, the minutemen's fate will be decided.

R&R.


	55. The vote

**Three Days Later**

_Basin City, Nevada_

"Yeah, he came in here…" said Marv as he nursed a cold beer and then belched, "Sure. He came in and sat down right where you're sittin'. I didn't pay him much attention at first since he mostly kept to himself. Mostly I pegged him down for just another losers come to look up at Nancy and breathe heavy. Though I gotta say for a little guy he could hold his water.

"*errp*… Maybe half and hour or so later he left his seat and went to the other side of the bar, started hassling some dame, a pretty little thing… The type that wouldn't give most men in this joint the time of day, myself included… Anyway, turned out the dame was his wife and he started-"

"Did you say wife?

"Yeah."

"That's impossible." Said Mona, "He's not married."

"Hey, that's what he said. Anyway, she wants nothing to do with him but he won't have any of it. He won't take no for an answer. He started roughing her up. And that's when I got involved, I hate it when guys rough up dames. And I never liked that dickwipe since the war… Didn't I tell you that I knew him from somewhere? Yeah, I met him a long time ago in 'Nam, didn't like him then, either."

"What did you do to him?"

"I wiped the floor with him a bit then threw him out the door, got back in and had another beer. He never got back in after that."

"What about the woman?"

"I dunno… I don't think I saw her when I got back in."

"How's it going, Marv?"

Mona looked over her shoulder to see a man of forty approaching, shaved headed and with a camera bag hanging from his shoulder.

"Dwight!" hollered Marv, "Haven't seen you in a dog's age, buddy."

"Order us a round, Marv. I'll be back in a sec." said Dwight,

"I couldn't help but overhear what the two o you were talking about. May I have a word with you, ma'am?"

"Thanks for your time." Said Mona as she got off the stool and walked beyond an earshot from Marv with Dwight at her side.

"I'm sorry about Marv." Said Dwight, "He's not completely alright in the head. He has some kind of psychological condition, some people say he got from the war, it makes him confused sometimes. The gist of it is true. I saw your friend out on the sidewalk, and he didn't look like a guy who was around for Vietnam."

"Alright, so what really happened?"

"I don't know for sure, but I hear Marv got into a fight with some out-of-towner over a woman. I came in after the fact, when the man you're looking for, he was getting back on his feet."

"What about the woman, this supposed wife?"

"She was there too. Cute. Blond, medium height, early to mid-twenties. Whatever went on between then must not have been all that serious, 'cause they ended up leaving for the dinner down the street. Poppa's Olympian Palace."

"Thanks." Said Mona as she headed for the door.

"Again, sorry about Marv. He doesn't mean any harm, but he causes plenty. He can't help saving a damsel in distress, sometimes even if she's not really in distress. To tell you the truth, your friend is Lucky."

"How so?"

"Guys who get on Marv's bad side usually end up in St. Luke's or the friend was up and walking three minutes later."

* * *

"Did you have fun?" asked Mona as she stepped out of the bar. Lucy was waiting outside, burying her hands in hr coat pockets and slumping her shoulders.

"I want to get to the pearl as soon as possible." She said in disgust as she followed Mona.

"Hey, you're the one who didn't want to go inside the bar."

"What did you find out?"

"Apparently, Priest was here a three night ago. He got into a fight, there was a woman involved who may or may not be his wife."

"Wife?"

"He used to be married, I don't know… Anyway, the two of them left for a dinner down the road."

Mona and Lucy walked on down the street in silence as the sun sank behind the city skyline and darkness fell. A police car coasted in the opposite direction, slammed clumsily into another car before it sped away again.

"Are we going to find out what happened to Priest or not?" asked Mona.

"Isn't that what we're doing?"

"We're going through the motions, Lucy. You're a psychic, so tell me."

"That's not the way it works, I told you."

Both fell into brief silence again and walked.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Luce. But having a psychic for a partner isn't as useful as I thought it would be."

* * *

The Greek couple that ran the 'Palace' were reluctant to be of any help at first, even after Mona had offered the husband some money, it took Lucy to drop a few hints about a woman's name that was prominent in his mind, it was a name that the wife didn't know.

They pointed them to an apartment building where the wife had spied the strange couple from a few days ago walk into, a mere few minutes after they ejected them.

"Yes…They definitely came here." Said Lucy, gliding in the corridor outside an apartment on the ninth floor, "Corridors have a good memory."

"That's it." Said Lucy as she pointed at a door.

"Sure?"

"Certain."

Mona took her gun out of its holster and motioned for Lucy to give her some berth.

The lock shattered as Mona kicked the door in. She steadily stepped in, gun raised high, prepared for anything that might come her way.

"Is it safe?" asked Lucy, clinging to the corridor wall by the door outside, contented to allow Mona to deal with whatever that could come their way.

"There's no one here."

Lucy carefully walked in. The ample studio apartment seemed deserted, there were no sheets on the bed, the fridge door was wide open, revealing empty shelves, there was no phone to be seen anywhere.

"Dead end."

"It's alright," said Lucy as she sat down in the middle of the living room, "I can try to get a read on the apartment."

Mona didn't object or say anything, she went to the door and closed it as best she could.

"Here goes nothing." Mumbled Lucy as she settled into the lotus position, she closed her eyes and started taking deep rhythmic breaths.

As Lucy used her powers, Mona looked around the apartment. It had been stripped of almost everything in a hurry, quite possibly by looters. Electric wiring used to plug in home appliances were left lying around, an armoire's drawers were open and empty except for the odd sock or torn piece of undergarments.

But what most intrigued Mona was a dart she'd found lodged in the side of a nightstand, soldiered to a copper capacitor.

Suddenly, Lucy came out of her trance with a heart gasp.

"What happened?" asked Mona as she rushed to her side.

"There's something wrong." Said Lucy, using Mona's hands to pull herself up, "This place's memory, it's distorted. There's bits and pieces missing, and it's not in continuity. It's like the ethereal space was hacked apart with a chainsaw and then pieces together in wrong order with rope and a few pieces missing."

"What can do that?"

"Magical rituals, radiation, some forms of electrical activity maybe."

"So did you see anything?"

"Priest and Erica… His wife, that's her name…" said Lucy, "They came here. She was upset with him at first but they made love, there wasn't too much in the way of arguments after that. But then something happened, and that's where it starts to fall apart. I'm not sure what happened, but there were people who came here, and Priest was threatened and angry, very angry."

"You don't say." Said Mona as she let Lucy stand on her own, then looked at the dart in her hand before tossing it away.

"What's on your mind?"

"The obvious, really. Priest's wife didn't just run into him, she brought him back home because someone wanted her to. The League, no doubt. Maybe they were hoping she'd get information out of him, maybe Priest caught on and the League moved in to capture him."

Lucy bolted out the door, Mona followed her.

"He fell here." Said Lucy as she raced down the last few steps to the bottom of the spiral staircase, "Fell from up top all the way to the bottom. He hurt himself, that's when the League team got their advantage."

Lucy kneeled down and graced the floor of the foyer with her hand.

"They beat him up for a while but he fought back, and then… A blank."

* * *

**Later**

_The Black Pearl_

Seven gloomy men and women gathered around the meeting table, the minutemen, Barbossa, Jenny and Al-Sheikh. Lucy had filled everybody in what she'd found. Not one of them tried to speak. Just days ago the minutemen had celebrated the most recent in a string of successes, and now everything had gone bad, so none really knew what to say that could change anything.

In the end, it was O'Brien who spoke.

"Look, I don't like to be the first to talk at these things. But I gotta do it, are we or aren't we going to save Priest?"

"We are. No question." Said Mona. Some stared at her, while others did their best to look away.

"That's not for you to decide." Said Jenny..

"Excuse me? You want to leave Priest to the wolves?"

"We have no choice." Said Al-Sheikh as he stood up.

"You saved Aladdin Sane, didn't you?"

"After several months of investigation," said Barbossa, "Under a completely different set of circumstances."

"Why was it different?"

"Sane wasn't the same kind of captive that Priest is. He's likely held at a much more secure facility than Sane was, not to mention that at this point I'm not sure if he's alive or not."

"What are you talking about?

"Priest is what you'd call a fairly insurmountable adversary, and he'd fight tooth and nail to escape capture. I envision any attempt to arrest him would end in his escape or his demise."

"You'e giving him too much credit, the Gotham mob once managed to drug Priest and force him into helping them last year."

"Be that as it may. There's another issues to consider." Said Al-Sheikh, "Sane wouldn't have been of much concern to the directors. But Priest? Priest dismembered Felix Leiter's forty years ago, and dealt Mina Jekyll enough insults for her to develop a grudge, he threw her out a window. Those two would trip over each other to make sure he never has the slightest chance of escape.

"Secondly, it happened in Basin City, where finding a witness who even noticed what went on is going to impossible."

"So after all he's done to you, finding out who Josephine is, finding MacGuffin, you're just going to let him spend his last ninety days in a cell?" asked Mona.

"Priest knew the risks;" said Jenny sternly, "He knew them when he joined the opposition, he knew them when joined the minutemen, he knew them when he jumped out of a helicopter. **Yes**, we won't try to help him."

Mona stared Jenny down in cold disbelief. She found herself instinctively make a gesture to reach her gone, a gesture she stopped early, though didn't go unnoticed.

"We'll vote." She said in contained anger.

"There is nothing to vote about." Said Barbossa.

"The Cairo cell decided they were going to save Aladdin Sane, so we're going to vote whether or not the minutemen are going to save Jude Priest."

"Out of the question."

"If the others disagree, I'll drop it." Said Mona, her voice beginning to rise, "Otherwise, we'll do it. Refuse andI swear on my sister'a grave, I will walk out, and then you can try your chances at finding someone else to kill the League for you."

"You're way out of line, Sax." Barked Jenny.

"So you refuse?"

"There's only four of you." Said Al-Sheikh.

"Fine, if the vote is split halfway, then we won't do it."

"'You want to walk away, go ahead and do it." Said Jenny, "We've-"

"Fine." Said Barbossa, who had been quiet for the most part. All eyes turned toward him.

"Go ahead." Said Barbossa, sounding more like he was challenging Mona rather than granting permission.

"I'm in." Mona said. Jenny rolled her eyes.

There was a long pause as the others weighed how much they liked Priest against the undeniable risk. Once again, it was O'Brien who spoke first.

"It's my own damn fault we got caught," said O'Brien, "And Priest is my friend. I'm in."

"I'm not." Said Shaun, rather quickly.

"Shaun…"

"I'm out, Mona."

"Priest was your teacher, he was your friend! Don't tell me you still blame him for what happened to Liz!"

"My own feelings for Priest notwithstanding," said Shaun calmly, "He wouldn't want us to come after him. You know it."

Mona looked at Shaun incredulously for a moment, before she removed her gaze from him, and placing it at Lucy, who sat one end of the table, lost in her own thoughts.

"Fine, Lucy?"

For a moment, Lucy didn't seem to notice any of what was going on.

"He was going to die." Lucy finally said as she stared into space.

"What?"

"Priest was dying." Said Lucy as she looked up at Mona, "He didn't want to tell you, he didn't want to tell me but I found out anyway. He was dying of some sort of rare vampire-specific disease. He'd had that disease since before you met him.

"That's why he was always so reckless; he was suicidal, Mona. He knew that in spite of it all he wasn't going to live forever, he couldn't bear the thought of wasting away, so he tried to make the end come a lot closer."

"I can't believe you'd make this shit up!"

"I'm not. What did he say to you, Mona? In Gotham, outside the stable, last year on Christmas morning, when he came out of a coma?

_**__________________**_

_"… you were almost killed..."_

_"Tell me about it," said Priest weakly and coughed, "You should have left me to die."_

_"Yeah? Well its too late now." said Mona as she tossed an old blanket on top of him._

_**__________________**_

"So we leave him to rot, because its not worth the effort? Because he'll die soon anyway? That's not the point!"

"Shaun's right, Priest wouldn't have wanted us to come for him." Said Lucy, "The answer is no."

"That settles it, then." said Barbossa as he stood up, "Priest is on his own. May god protect him."

* * *

**Later**

"You look like you bring bad news, chum." Said Barbossa, sitting by himself in the Black Pearl's bridge as Al-Sheikh came walking in, "Who was it?"

"O'Brien quit. He said he's seen too much. He can't stomach it anymore. He says he's heading for Gotham, try his hand at crimefighting again."

"Sax?"

"She's shocked by what Miss Wagner has said, but she's staying."

"Wagner?"

"She's handling it a lot better."

"Collier?"

"Absolutely emotionless. If Priest has passed something significant onto his protégé, it is sheer apathy in the face of hardship."

"So where does that leave us?"

"Priest is dead or captured, Jarrah and O'Brien have to pursue their own devices. We're down to three minutemen. Two of whom have had a dissagreement with their leader that she won't forget, and might not be able to put it aside…. You know back when I first formed this unit, I said to Nemo that it was a temporary detail, that if allowed to continue long enough I will be disastrous consequences… As time passed and they did whatever we asked and more, I started to delude myself, thinking it would hold together for a long time, but I was wrong. That day has come."

Al-Sheikh turned around, and walked away from Barbossa.

"The minutemen are over."

Barbossa turned toward his instrument, and with a flick of a switch, a panel opened up, revealing the murky waters of Basin City Harbor.

"God help us all."

* * *

I've left a clue above to a character that will be introduced next chapter. See f you can spot it.

**Next Chapter**

Priest wakes up in a certain insane asylum, and meets a man they call the White Angel. At the same time, in London, Harmony Kendall reaches her breaking point and contemplates doing something drastic before facing something that will change everything for the League and the opposition.

R&R.


	56. Breaking Point

**A month and a half later**

_Gotham City_

Gotham

"It's only a matter of time." Said Doctor Slade nervously.

"You've been saying that for over a month, Doctor." Said Josephine, looking through the foot thick pane of bullet proof glass at the harshly lit cell and the lone occupent inside.

"I'm very close-"

"Two agents have requested no be reassigned, finding themselves unwilling to take any more verbal abuse from the subject, who has so far exhibited no desire to cooperate in anyway. You are not close."

"He never sleeps."

Josephine didn't respond to the doctor's statement, she kept staring at the man in the corner, his head slumped on his chest, his body uncomfortably restrained.

"He's heavily sedated right now. Elephant tranquilizers." Said the man, "But he doesn't seem to sleep naturally. He's also endowed with an extraordinary tolerance for pain. We'd use sleep depravation but he's an insomniac. He's immune to most drugs, truth serums included. And he can regenerate any part of his body, so he has no fear of becoming deformed or disabled. That takes away the psychological edge, he won't rattle."

"Don't be ridiculous, little boy."

The speaker was a man near the age of a hundred, if not past it, with a full head of hair white as paper. He wore a suit and stood with the aid of a cane, but other than that displayed no sign of being physically frail. He spoke with a German accent.

"There's nothing worse than physical pain, despite all romantics say, everyman has a breaking point, though some don't live to reach it. But yours will, you have no excuse."

"Excuse me, but on the second week we took a blow torch to his tongue!"

"Oh, really? How crude."

"I… Excuse me, who are you?"

"Doctor Christian Szell is the man who is going to take over from here." Said Josephine, "You're reassigned. Now get out of my sight."

A guard approached Slade from the side. Slade took the hint, and walked away of his own accord.

"Some of what he said is right, you know." Said Szell, "I'll do my best, certainly better than him, but I'm not a miracle worker. I will need time before I deliver results."

"You do what you need," said Josephine as she pressed hr forehead to the glass, "But above all else, I need him to suffer."

* * *

_London_

"Look, Emma, we've discussed this." Said Bond, speaking into his cellphone as he sat in the back of his car.

"I realize that that, I didn't exactly get this job in a lottery, you know…… We'll set up the new plants in Norway, as we should have at the start if Josephine wasn't such a little girl, and we'll get the rest of the funds…… The States will just have to move in on Syria it sooner, is all, which we've always head the leverage over Congress to accomplish…… No… Look, Benjamin will take care of the CIA, and SHIELD will have no option but to follow their lead. Alright?... No, Logan isn't a problem…We're still going ahead with Phoenix, as planned. Understood? Goodbye."

Bond switched off his phone and tossed aside, leaned his head back and rubbed his eyes.

"Michael, did you manage to get through to my secretary?"

"No, sir, she's not answering her cell." Said Michael, Bond's chauffer and bodyguard, "She's in her building, though. The doorman said so."

"I just remembered, your wife called."

"And what did _she_ want?"

"She said it was your anniversary. She said she made reservation at Monique's."

"Christ, I'd forgotten about that. This isn't what I need right now. Oh fuck! Bloody women." He mumbled, "Always something going on with them."

"We'll be there shortly, sir."

* * *

Harmony Kendall stood facing the bathroom mirror, looking at the nothingness that looked back, a sight that never ceased to amaze her in the years since she passed.

She looked down at her hand, to make sure the weight wasn't just a thing of her unstable mind. But sure as her lack of reflection, there it was, black as onyx, seven hundred grams of cold steel, eight bullets in the magazine, one in the chamber, point-thirty-two.

She thumbed back the safety pin as she heard her apartment door open.

"I'm going to kill you."

* * *

_Gotham City_

The fire behind his eyes subsided, the sand in his mind slipped away like an hourglass and the two long, twisting shadows of his imagining grew solid and defined into the form of his legs. He began to regain sensation, feelings cold, damp concrete bellow his cheek. He took a tiny whiff, the best he could muster, the air carried a cacophony of scents, blood and excrement, antiseptic and rubbing alcohol, and the lingering fragrance of expensive perfume.

"Come on. Wake up Mister Priest."

He could see several sets of legs standing nearby, most in steel toed boots, those belonged to his jailers and torturers, but there was one in simple dress shoes.

Priest found himself pulled off the ground and held up, allowed a better view of the man.

"Strap him to the chair." Said Szell, the men placed Priest down on a barber's chair that was in the center of the room, restraining him further with iron straps that forced his head back.

"What bullshit is this?"

"Mister Priest, do you know who I am?"

"I suppose you're the concierge?"

"Look at me face. Are you certain you don't know who I am?"

"Yes….No…. Yes, I've seen you before… " said Priest, recognition and realization dawning on him, realizing why he was in the chair, "You were the dentist from Auschwitz. Der Weibe Engel, isn't that what they called you?"

"Precisely." Said Szell with a satisfied smile, turning a knob to recline the chair backward.

Priest lunged forward, his fangs bulging. The restraints held in place, making his attempted attack look quite foolish.

"I'm not sure what that was supposed to accomplish. In your condition, the only one you can harm is yourself."

"I'll kill you." Hissed Priest.

"Mossad, KGB, SIS… They've all tried, how could a thug like you prevail?" said Szell as he slipped on a pair of rubber gloves, then speaking to one of the guards standing by,

"Open his mouth."

Szell watched as the guard did as Szell ordered, then asked,

"Where are they?"

"Go to hell." Said Priest as best as he could with his mouth forced open.

"If you've heard about me, you know what kind of things I do. Where are the remaining members of your unit? Where is the opposition's secret base?"

"I'll rip your heart out of your chest."

"Christ, your breath stinks like a Russian." Said Szelll as he picked up a pair of pliers.

"Where are they?" he asked as he held the pliers open an inch away from Priest's fang.

"Safe. Now do your worst, Szell."

"You've taken poor care of your teeth." Said Szell as he tightened the pliers, "As a vampire, you should be ashamed."

With a few twists and jerks, prolonged to further Priest's screams of agony, Szell ripped Priest's fang out of his gums, as he thrashed on the chair, dropped them into a small container at his side.

"Now do you want to talk?"

"Go to hell…"

"I've exposed your nerves." Said Szell as he picked up a tiny scalpel, "The next thing you feel is me slicing a fraction of a millimeter off the tip, and then I'll do it many time more. Regardless of all your past exploits, it will hurt like nothing you've ever known. Tell me what I want and you won't. Where is the opposition hiding?"

* * *

_London_

"Harmony."

Bond closed the door behind him. He looked around the fairly plush apartment as he loosened his tie.

"Harmony, get out here, silly girl. You know I don't like to wait." Said Bond as he took off his jacket and tossed aside.

* * *

They were all alike, thought Harmony. Angel, Mason, Bond; They all saw her the same; a means to an end, a dog to fetch their slippers or do tricks or get on all fours for their pleasure.

Angel didn't trust her, he had used her as a pawn in the war he wanted to wage. Mason did precisely the same, he relied on her, but didn't trust her, he trusted Mernae. He deceived her, made her think she was part of something grand, part of a good cause, when all she really was was the punch line to a sadistic joke, he made a whore out of her, driven with a smile into his enemy's bed, on the pretense of making the world a better place.

But none was worse than Bond, that heartless degenerate. Night after night of cold frenzy, she'd come to look deep into him, and she realized that deep within, he had nothing. As soulless a specimen as she'd ever seen, and she'd seen plenty. He didn't care about her, or his wife, or any woman, they were all his playthings, to be used and discarded the moment they got old.

But it had to end, and she was the one to stop it. She would no longer serve Mason or Bond, she was going to get away from that world of venomous men. She was going to walk out of the bathroom, head straight for him as he waited for her in bed or in the living room, waiting for her to get on her knees and placate him like it was all she wanted out of life. She was going to make sure he realized what was about to happen, that the legend of Sir Commander James Bond, greatest spy the world has ever seen, who has survived the entirety of the cold war with dozens of bounties on his head, was going to meet his end at the hands of a woman.

And then as he realized he had finally lost, she would pull the trigger, send him to meet his maker, and let everything else be damned.

Harmony tightened her hand around the gun's handle, and then bolted out the door. She raised her weapon, tears of pent up frustration welling up in her tears.

"James!" she cried, her finger trembling on the trigger, every ounce of her screaming for murder. But then she saw something that was truly bizarre.

Bond lay on the floor on his side, choking, his shirt unbuttoned and one shoe off. His eyes shot open in abject terror.

Bond looked up at her in pain, clutching his chest with his hand, in a silent, humiliated plea for rescue.

"James?"

* * *

**Next Chapter** As a lifetime of adrenaline, drinking, fornicating and every other vice you care to think of catch up with the world's greatest spy, the opposition and the League find themselves unexpectedly at war. No more cloaks, no more daggers skullduggeries. Simple, all-out war.

R&R.


	57. The Invisible War, Part 1

**Now**

_London_

Harmony walked quickly down Westminster Bridge, nervously looking over her shoulder every ten steps. She held her cell phone up to her ear, listening to the ringing impatiently.

_"Hello?"_ answered Mernae groggily.

"This is Harmony. He's dead oh my god he's dead."

_"Slow down, pet. What are you talking about?"_

"James Bond. He's dead, or dying, I don't know. He was in my apartment, and then he fainted in the middle of my living room."

_"What?"_

"Something happened to Bond, okay? He collapsed while I was in the bathroom. Do you understand me?"

_"Yeah, I get you. Christ, what happened to him?"_

"I don't know… It must have been a heart attack or something."

_"Did you call for an ambulance?"_

"I told Michael, Bond's bodyguard. He called for one and gave him CPR."

_"Where'd they take him?"_

"St. Mirryn's Hospital."

_"Isn't there anyone with you now?"_

"I'm not there. I left."

_"What? You le… Harmony, you need to get back there. They're going to want to get in contact with you, you'll make them suspicious."_

"It doesn't matter."

_"Listen, just calm down. I'll come and meet you, we'll talk, and we'll work everything out."_

"I quit, Mern. That's it, I'm out."

_"Harmony, I understand where this is coming from, but-."_

"I'm not going back."

_"You __have__ to go back."_

"I was going to kill him, Mernae." said Harmony, her voice grown tremulous.

_"…What?"_

"I had a gun. I bought it for four hundred pounds from a Yardie in Hackney. I was going to blow his brain out, if he didn't have that heart attach first."

_"Harmony, where can I find you."_

"Goodbye, Mern, you'll never see or hear from me again."

_"Don't be daft, Harmony! As soon as they notice you're missing they'll be watching the airports!"_

"I'll take my chances. Good luck with your war games."

Harmony flipped her phone shut, the hurled it over the side of the bridge. She faintly heard the splash as it hit the water, and she felt great relief. She felt cleansed, and free. Rejuvenated, she quickened up her pace, and raised a hand to hail a taxi.

**--------------------------**

News of Bond's condition was not the sort to be well reported, but where it would be would gain the knowledge fast. A handful of kings, presidents, and spymasters most rum gained knowledge of it, and so did the coalition of those in opposition to the league.

**-------------------------**

_The Yellow Submarine_

Nemo held his interlocked fists to his chin as he sat looking at three screens, each displaying one of his associates as they bickered.

_"We have to move now."_ Barbossa grumbled, _"We're never going to get a chance like this."_

_"By this point, Emma Peel will have taken up the position of Chairwoman."_ Said Mason, _"She's every bit as capable as Bond, she'll have no trouble at-"_

_"There's bound to be a period of disarray, a window that will close unless we act."_

_"What do we know precisely about Bond's condition?"_ asked Raimus, _"For all we know, he's recovered by now."_

_"Unlikely. Jimmy Saint has been undercover at St. Merryn's as an orderly and he claims that the doctors are baffled. Several experts, including a team of diagnosticians from New Jersey are being flown in to lend their services._

_"Fact of the matters is; we're not ready yet."_

_"We're as ready as we're ever likely to get. We've got men poised to take out three branch directors_ _as we speak."_

_"Their efforts would be futile unless we have all seven covered. Then there's Peel. Not to mention-"_

_"Hold on, Jack."_ Said Raimus, _"You've been quiet, Nemo. Uncharacteristically so. What do you think?"_

The tree waited for Nemo to speak, but he did not. He merely removed his hands and set them at his sides as he leaned back in his chair and did not talk.

_"Nemo?"_

"For the past few months, I've been feeling very conflicted. I suppose it all started on that island, before we headed to the volcano, with Gump's interrogation, the last words he yelled to us before Fareed Almasry shot him in the head. How that our soul purpose was the destruction of an entity that for the better and worst keeps the world spinning., without offering any kind of solution or alternative."

_"Dakkar-"_

"On one rare occasion, when Priest and I were more or less on the same page, he said something about the necessity of taking a good, hard look at himself and the world around him every now and then, to see if something hadn't gone too awry. At the time, I thought little of it, and I smiled and nodded politely. But what he said was a lot more profound than I originally thought."

"He was absolutely right." Said Nemo, "We had lost the way, let ourselves be corrupted by lingering resentment, and wounded pride. But I've had a good, long look at myself, and us. And it's become so clear.

"The odds are stacked against us, as they have always been, as they always will be, but we will go on the offensive. We're going to attack the higher echelons of the league, and work our way down from there. We're ill-prepared, but we'll do what it takes. We'll do it not because Bond may well be on his death bed, but because the world can't afford to endure any more of their reign. We'll fight them wherever they stand, and we will prevail. And when its all said and done, when the dust has settles and the smoke has cleared, those of us left standing will be the alternative, we'll help this tired, battered world, became the extraordinary place it once was."

None of the three men said anything, merely staring forward, pondering what's been said. It was Mason who finally broke the silence, and said,

"Well then, there's much to do, and not enough time. Let's get to it."

* * *

**Hours Later**

_Siberia_

The old man of the wilderness fastened his boots and stood up, nudging the creaky floor to settle his feet in. He put on the gunbelt, feeling the dear comforting iron weighing down on his waist, he slipped on his old, tan duster and black gloves, he donned his wide brimmed hat and he felt ready.

Anatol Adamska, known to most as Revolver Ocelot had been called back into service, one of his former commanders, one of the few he respected, commanded him to take action, and he would not refuse Captain Raimus. He would perform his labors with relish and then he would return here and wait for the end.

Ocelot picked a plate off the kitchen table, filled with freshly minced meat and placed it on the floor. A mutt came limping and started to feed.

"Take your time," said Ocelot in his gravely voice as he headed to the door, "I'll be back in a few days."

* * *

**Hours More Later**

_Cairo_

Yusuf al-Kherish reclined in the back of his limousine with a glass of Scotch in his hand, his right hand man, Haytham, sat next to him, speaking on his cell phone to his subordinates.

"The airport has been secured, sir." Said Haytham, "The plain is set to leave right now and we're to land in Larkhil Military Airport."

"Any word on Bond?"

"He's in critical condition, but stable."

"In other words, nothing knew." Said the director, "Unbelievable, the one man with a hold over three in four heads of state and he comes to this. I always told him all the whoring and the vodka martinis would be the end of him…. Still, he's a good man, and strong. Hopefully he'll pull through."

"We're here, sir." Said Haytham, the car started to slow down, coasting toward a spot on the runway by the private jet.

"You don't suppose the opposition could have been behind any of it."

"Impossible. This is the chairman of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen we're talking about; he has one to three bodyguards with him at all time, that actually can be identified as such, he's also accompanied by anywhere from a dozen to a score of undercover agents from a rotating roaster of highly capable agents who look as mundane as you've ever met. Not to mention surgically implanted positioning devices and…. Well, you get the idea."

"Has Mrs. Peel chosen a new VC?"

"That's Chairwoman Peel to you, and yes, she's opted for both myself and Director Leiter."

"Really? That's… That's not protocol, is it?"

"She's the League Chairwoman for now, Agent; she can whatever she damn well pleases. It's not official, of course, you're the fourth person to know, and I expect one of us, myself probably, will be the unacknowledged VP."

The car came to a halt. Armed guards in business suits disembarked from both escort cars accompanying the director's own, and spread out to ensure that no mistake had been made.

One man stepped up to the car and opened the door for the director, who stepped out onto the tarmac, followed by Haytham. The two headed swiftly to the stairs leading to the open hatch door.

The bullet grazed Haytham's shoulder before it struck the director right in the heart, he stood three steps away from inside the luxury jet, holding his hand to the hole in his chest, feeling the warm, liquid life oozing out of him before he exhaled his last breath, and tumbled back onto his minder. Haytham grabbed onto his superior, suddenly feeling the sharp pain in his shoulder as he yelled and called for a medic.

* * *

_Off the coast of Denmark_

_The Yellow Submarine_

Nemo stood be himself atop the submarine's conning tower, looking ahead at the coast as it loomed on the horizon, and a curious, shapeless golden patch in the water a few dozen feet away from the submarine's water line. A cell phone he had in his back pocket started ringing, he reached for it and picked up, speaking without the customary greetings.

"It's done? Good." Have a pleasant return back to base."

_"I'm not heading straight to New York?"_ asked Mona on the other side.

"Leiter will surely be out by the time you get there. We'll have to wait."

_"Alright."_

Mona hung up, Nemo went to place his phone on the edge of the railing, but he was distracted by something else, so it fell over the edge, slipped down the side of the submarine and into the water. The golden spot of glittering water that had held his attention for a moment a minute ago was changing. Moving. Slowly, the golden water started to condense into a small patch.

Nemo leaned over the railing, squinting, trying to get a better look at what his eyes could not believe.

A figure emerged from the water, rising erect as the patch traveled closer to the submarine. Human, and feminine. For the last three feet, she seemed to walk on the water's surface. Nemo couldn't believe what he was seeing. The creature continued its journey, scaling the side of the submarine with ease.

For the first time in a long time the mariner was genuinely afraid. He backed away from the railing, dreading the moment the creature would arrive, yet his curiosity prevented him from escaping, or calling for help.

The creature finally emerged, setting one of its feet with a talon under the heel on deck at a time. She was tall, and nude, if not for an eerie golden coating that covered every inch of her. Her hair was brown and long, and tied into a single braid that seemed to move of its own like a tail. If one could look past these unearthly attributes and look upon her features, they'd find that she had a hellish kind of beauty to her, or it.

"You need not be frightened, prince."

Her voice was faint yet clear, like a violin playing in the wind.

"Who are you?"

"A messenger, with a message from Mr. Spiggot." She said and then paused, as iftyo give Nemo time to remember the significance of the name, and to dread what would come next, "Your time is running low."

Nemo hung his head, and with a sigh full of worry he looked back up.

"How much do I have left?"

"Oh, that's up to you, really. You could go to the armory, find a gun, be in control of your destiny. Or you could leave it all, find Miss Lee, live out the rest of your years in your own heaven, before you inevitably fall. But the end is coming, of that you may be certain.

"Unless…" said the creature, pausing for dramatic effect once again "You were to extend your contract, offer another soul as collateral. Say… Miss Sax's? Or perhaps Wagner's, she'd be a most splendid gift…."

Nemo looked to her in disdain. He turned around and headed for the vaulted door.

"The devil will get what he paid for, should he ever dare to come and collect."

As Nemo went to turn the wheel, the tip of her braid caressed his shoulder.

"Now, my prince… Master Spiggot wanted to let you know he appreciated your war, he quite enjoyed your speech yesterday, so powerful, and moving. Almost convincing, even. Master Spiggot appreciates good drama."

"You've delivered your message, now get away from me!"

She laughed, full of sadistic pleasure andimpudence.

"Just remember, Prince Dakkar, make it good."

* * *

Sorry this took so long, computer viruses, computer theft and life got in the way. Anyway, I hope to update quite regularly from here on out.

**Next Chapter**

Priest gets psychiatric visit, whil the war continues.

R&R.


	58. The Invisible War, Part 2

**Now**

_London_

Emma Peel stood leaning against the bureau, and looking at the television screen on the wall. She was a sophisticated woman, beautiful and radiant even at seventy.

"How was al-Kherish killed?" said Emma Peel, reiterating Leiter's question that he said on the screen a moment ago, "Well, he was shot in the chest as he was about to get into his jet."

_"You're kidding me. How?"_

"Our Cairo branch is working on that, but it happened in our private airstrip outside the city. You've been to it, you know that anyone trying to infiltrate it would instantly be spotted, and there's nothing around it for kilometers in any direction, except for a pylon five kilometers due west. In the sand under it, Agents found a single casing, and footprints leading to tire tracks."

_"Five kilometers… Must have been one hell of a sniper, and one hell of a gun."_

"Yes, definitely. By the end of the week, baring James' recovery, which I have to say seems unlikely; you'll have to find a successor to your post."

_"Yes, ma'am. Now, about al-Kherish, surely its not-"_

"-A coincidence that he was assassinated as soon as Bond fell ill? That much is obvious. That's why I'm about to place the League on high alert, and initiate a purge order, to attack any individuals we expect are associated with the opposition."

_"Excellent call, ma'am. But that's not what I'm asking, do you think the opposition made James sick?"_

_"_ If you think they've contributed to Bond's condition, you can rule it out, every scientists, physician and magician we've got has ruled out any possibility that Bond's condition is externally induced."

"My office will be in touch with yours soon. Goodbye."

The screen blinked shut. Peel took her seat at the leather chair, and reclined back with an exhausted sigh. She heard a knock on the door.

"Come in, Veruca."

A young woman of her twenties entered the room.

"What is it?"

"Harmony Kendall, ma'am." Said Verucca, "Bond's secretary. We've been trying to find her for debriefing, but she's disappeared."

"Disappeared? Wait, wasn't Bond picked up from her flat?"

"Yes."

"Then why hasn't she been taken into custody then."

"I don't know."

"Good god, perhaps the opposition were involved…." Muttered Peel, "She's of little consequence now, just alert R department to monitor all airports here and in the states. Have our station in Los Angeles dispatch two men to LAX to keep an eye out for her."

* * *

_Gotham City_

"Do you know who I am?"

Priest didn't have to think too long to recall who the well dressed elderly Englishman was dragging a chair across his cell's concrete floor was.

"Yeah. Your picture was everywhere fifteen years ago, you're that serial killer; Lecter."

"Doctor Hannibal Lecter, actually." Said Lecter as he placed the chair five feet away from the one to which Priest was chained and then sat.

"Huh. When they told me a shrink was coming to visit me I thought that was just torture humor."

"I imagine you did. Tell me, Mr. Priest…"

"What happened to your hand?"

Lecter glanced at his left hand, a perfect prosthetic covered by a brown suede glove.

"Perceptive. I lost it years ago, I hacked it off with a cleaver."

"Hardcore. Did it hurt?"

"Do you think it mightn't?"

Priest shrugged.

"Do you ever get phantom limb?"

"Mr. Priest, I don't wish to talk about my hand. I was wondering if we could talk about you."

"I've stuck it out here for two months and change; I'm not going to start talking because a celebrity asked nicely."

"I'm not here about the opposition."

Priest shifted in his seat, and looked at Lecter with squint eyes. Lecter took an envelope out of his bag and pulled out a stack of cards.

"I assume you know how this goes." Said Lecter, raising a Rorschach card.

Priest sniggered and tossed his head back.

"Well? Neither of us is going anywhere."

"….A butterfly."

* * *

_Moscow_

The gunfire stopped for a moment, to be replaced by whimpers of one man as he crawled among the bodies, hearing the jingle of spent shells as they hit the ground and fresh bullets being loaded into an antique revolver.

"Please…" pleaded the man, raising his hands in a desperate attempt to protect himself, "Please… I have a fiancée; we're supposed to get married next month! I beg you, spare me! I've just started working here this week, whatever quarrel you have with these people; I had no part in it!"

"I don't care." Growled Ocelot as he aimed the colt in his left hand and pulled the trigger.

----------------------------------------

Vigilant, armed to the teeth and filled with fortitude, the guards came bursting through the doors that lead between the lobby of the League's Moscow station and the stairs that lead to the upper floor.

"Where is he?" asked a guard, scanning the lobby wall to wall looking for a trace of the gunman.

"The doors have been sealed. Chekov, fan left." The unit's commander ordered, "Simonov, right. Kosynski, take point. In country rules. Secure and advance."

The unit took to the commander's orders and spread all over, searching every nook and cranny, their fingers trained on their AK47's triggers. Seconds passed, and then a minute. Chekov started to grow anxious; he turned around, having looked in the utilities closet.

"He's not .."

Chekov's eyes widened as he saw Ocelot snap the commander's neck from behind with one hand, while with the other he seized the commander's AK and pulled the trigger, using the commander's limp body as a shield. Chekov's eyes went dead as the bullets struck him, mostly in his armor, but a few finding their way to his head.

The Russian let go of the corpse, and grasped the rifle with practiced proficiency and turned it on the other guards, giving the trigger a quick squeeze between switching targets, sending small bursts of gunfire, each hitting pay dirt.

------------------------------

"It took you all of eleven minutes to get here…" said the commander, nursing a bottle of Dom in his hand. Ocelot reloaded his guns as he sauntered through the open office doors.

"…You've lost your touch, old man. You know… I knew when I heard that Bond was in a coma that I'd be the first to get it. Stands to reason, really; the Moscow station is almost a branch in itself…"

Ocelot cocked his gun and aimed it between the commander's eyes.

"You talk too much."

"What do you want?" said the commander, "You work for the opposition, I guess, they're not averse to making deals. So tell me what you need and I'll get it to you, and you let me walk away. Could you do me that?"

Ocelot pulled the trigger; the commander promptly lost plenty of weight from the top of his head and slumped back in his chair.

"I think I'll help myself, thank you." Said Ocelot as he reached for the man's keys.

* * *

_Gotham City_

"…So then Captain America bitch slaps the SS Major and points at his own forehead, and says, 'Surrender? You think this here letter stands for _France_?'"

Lecter chuckled.

"Now, don't get me wrong, I'm rather fond of the French, and during my service I met some brave men in the French resistance, but still…"

"I'm afraid we're out of time." Said Lecter and stood up, picking up his notepad and Rorschach cards.

"Oh, really? Shame, that." said Priest with mock disappointment, "Oh well, don't be a stranger. Sometime I'll tell you how I killed Hitler in Fifty-Four."

"Have a good evening." Said Lecter as he knocked on the metal door, a guard on the other side unlocked it and allowed the psychiatrist out.

"Ta."

* * *

"I must say, Dr. Lecter, I didn't see the point in any of that that." Said Dr. Szell as he stood behind the pane of one-way bulletproof glass, watching Priest as he struggled to loose his restraints, a habit had never outgrown during his months of incarceration.

"He was not going to respond to any of the usual tricks, he's simply too old, too foul and too cunning to react desirably to any of them. I had to resort to other methods."

"Other methods, by that you mean an incomplete Rorschach test and forty minutes of inane banter and concocted anecdotes of the war?"

"This is what I do, Doctor Szell, you'd be advised not to question me on it. He's not going to talk." Said Lecter.

"Everyone talks eventually. Once they reach their breaking point, they abandon what they believe in."

"Not this one. And it's not a matter of belief. It is my belief that deep down, beyond what the subject will admit to himself, he has no genuine concern for the opposition's cause."

"Then why suffer? If it's not a matter of conviction, what is it?"

"Ego, mostly. Everyday he goes on without giving you anything is a day from your life you won't get back, and you hate him for it, and that is what sustains him. He quite simply lives to see you frustrated."

"Impossible. It can't be that."

"Of course it isn't. There's a tinge of masochism, he believes himself deserving to be punished, over genuine guilt over something or another."

"All that is well and good, bit it doesn't do me any good. How do we make him tell us what he knows? What can we do?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. As the previous torturers explained, torture has no impact on him because nothing you do can't be undone with just a bit of time to heal. Have you considered taking measures to nullify that, even temporarily?

"First thing we thought off, he built up a tolerance to the drug by the third time we administered it."

"Well then, you can't get him to give you what you want, so you'll have to take it from him."

* * *

_Los Angeles_

_LAX_

"Blondie bear, please…" Harmony pleaded, holding the payphone's receiver to her ear.

"Look, I'm sorry I…. Well, betrayed you. I'm sorry about everything you and Angel and everybody else went through."

_"You're sorry? Oh, that's a relief, pet."_

"Really?"

_"NO!"_

"Please, I'm in over my head. Come on, Spike, for old time's sake."

_"Old time's…Christ. Alright. Sod it, alright! I'm coming, just stay put."_

"Thanks."

_"*groan*."_

Harmony hung up the phone. She picked up her bag and made her way through the terminal to the rest rooms, quickening her pace when she noticed two suspicious men moving around, asking passengers if they say the woman n the picture they held, that looked a lot like her at the distance she stood from.

She placed her purse at the side and turned on the faucet, she gathered some water in her hand and splashed it onto her face. The door opened and a woman walking in, she wore a leather jacket and a baseball cap and had a ponytail. Harmony took two seconds to admire the jacket before her worries returned.

She couldn't stay in Los Angeles for long, but she didn't know what to do next. She hoped that Angel and Spike could think of something, arrange for her to hide somewhere in San Andreas, she had an old friend from school who'd found a measure of success in San Fierro, perhaps she could help her.

Harmony was too deep in her thoughts to sense it, she might have heard the air split as the stake pierced the air on its way to her back. She never knew it'd happened, merely felt an awful, ashen taste in her mounts as her blood turned to dust. The rest of her followed, and the being known as Harmony Kendall was reduced to a shapeless heap of dust on the floor of a restroom in LAX.

Kennedy took off her baseball cap and let her hair flow down as she dialed a number on her cell phone.

"Diana?"

_"Yes?"_

"Job's done."

* * *

R&R.

**Next Chapter**

Szell takes new measures to extract valuable information out of Priest, while Nemo springs into action.


	59. The Invisible War, Part 3

**One Week Later**

_London_

Jeffrey Boothroyd, once Major Boothroyd of British Intelligence nervously waited in the interrogation room, sitting behind the table with an SAS operative at each side. The door opened, and in walked a man of sixty.

"Basil." said Boothroyd as he recognized who it was.

"Q, we need to talk." Said Basil, "Gentlemen, give us the room."

The operative quietly left Boothroyd's sides and headed for the door, once the door clicked shut behind them, Boothroyd spoke.

"I'd heard they made you M. I suppose congratulations are in order?"

"Who'd you hear that from?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You still have friends in both Themes House and Vauxhall, I realize that, they tell you things, naturally. Well, whoever they are, did they tell you about Bond?"

"Last I heard he got some sort of Lordship, didn't he?"

"He's sick, Q, he's in critical condition."

"This is about 007?"

"His doctors, and you do realize that these are the absolute best there is don't know what's made him sick, his personal aid just disappeared… The league suspects foul play."

"God, you're running their errands!" Boothroyd said in disapproval, "Is this what it's come to?"

"Don't give me that, Q. You know what it's like, you know I don't like the concept of them, they cost us a lot of good men over the years. Just earlier this year I buried Powers and it was because of them. It was either this or they'd pull you in themselves, would you have preferred that?"

Boothroyd sighed.

"Why me?"

"They know you had dealings with the opposition, don't bother denying it."

"I'm not."

"They want to know about a specific item. A machine you constructed for Captain Nemo last year, based upon designs he provided you with."

Boothroyd hung his head.

"It was Algernon, wasn't it? My assistant, he's working for them?"

"Did you think they wouldn't keep tabs on one of Britain's top weapons men?"

"I had my workshop, my cottage, my garage, all equipped with dozens of devices to scramble anything they could be conceivably or otherwise used to monitor me, and still they got me with a fucking plant."

"That's the way it is, Q."

"Now what happens if I tell you?"

"The league won't just have you keep designing on equipment for whoever you take a liking to and can pay. If you're going to do it for anyone…"

"Yes, I understand."

"So tell me, what was it?"

* * *

_Gotham City_

"What do you mean we wait?" Dorian asked loudly from where he kneeled, his voice bellowing through the dusty abandoned ghost station.

"I've agreed to kill Mina for you because it was my responsibility to put the horrid creature out of her misery, but if you think for one second that I'm going to engage in your criminal op-"

"Calm down, _father_." Nemo said calmly, "You'll get your chance, I'm just telling you of what's going as a courtesy; I thought you wanted to know that our old company was getting shot at."

"I don't." said Dorian as he rose to his feet, "So when _will_ I get my chance? What are you waiting for?"

"An opening. We're outgunned, Gray, surely you realize that. To eliminate the branch directors, we must time in right. Mina will be saved for last because her presence sustains a state of divide and differences in the League. So just sit tight, and wait."

**----------------------**

"I don't think he was too convinced." Said Shaun as he walked alongside Nemo on their way to the busy subway platform, "I've never seen a priest so determined to kill someone else, I will say that."

"He and Josephine have a complicated history. He needs us to tell him where to strike, so I doubt he'll be a source for much trouble."

"I heard he used to be your colleague."

"He was. Speaking of partners, have you been speaking with Miss Sax?"

"No. Not recently. Lucy has, though." Said Shaun as a subway train loudly came to a halt, the doors parted, spitting out commuters and allowing others to cram themselves onboard.

"Even when we were together in Cairo to deal with al-Kherish, she didn't say a word that wasn't necessary. Apparently, she's not too pleased with most of us these days."

"That's because it'll be three months since Priest disappeared next week." Said Nemo as Shaun and he got onboard, "I trust you know what that means?"

"I do." Said Shaun, trying not to look Nemo in the eyes as he did.

"How does it make you feel?"

"To know that he'll be dead soon? Is that what you mean?" asked Shaun, "I know you and everyone else has their ideas about me and Priest, but it's not like that. We've had our differences-"

"You blame him for your wife's death."

"Well, I do. But I don't hate him for it, strange as that sounds. He also helped me gain some perspective in the aftermath, taught me things I needed to know. So how do I feel about him dying soon? I try not to feel anything about it, I try to think of how he's going to die soon anyway, on count of the disease he had and didn't tell any of us about, sometimes when that doesn't work, I think of all the lives he cut short over the years, try to think that he deserves it. I can't do a thing to help him, so me feeling anything is inconsequential, all that's left to do is not to dwell on the past, and try to keep busy."

"You would have made an excellent spy." Said Nemo coldly as the train rumbled away through darkened tunnels.

"Meaning?"

"What do you plan on doing next month?" asked Nemo, "We'll have won or died by then."

"Or captured."

"Well, there's always that. Have you given any thought to what you'd do then, after it's all over?"

"It won't be over, not for me." Said Shaun, "We had an agreement, didn't we?"

"Yes, and I'll honor my end of it, don't worry."

"That's settled, then. Now can you tell me why you've brought me along? I don't think you just wanted some protection while you got the vic to pipe down."

"I'm going to the Narrows. You are going to the Cauldron, that's the city's Irish district. There's someone I'm meeting, I have a transaction to make with him, he's asked to meet me alone."

"Who with?"

"Have you heard of the Joker?"

"Err... Sure."

"Well, the person I'm meeting is a diluted version of him, though he just wants the money, so I should walk away alive."

"Unwise, Captain."

"I appreciate your concern, but I have a few tricks up my own sleeve, don't worry about me."

"Alright, so why am I going to the Cauldron?"

"You're going to talk someone into helping us again."

"Who? More super criminals?"

"No, this one's a superhero."

"Really? Wait, not Bat-"

"Your old friend Eel O'Brien protects that part of town now." Said Nemo, "They call him Plastic Man, believe it or not."

"And you want me to bring him back? He made it abundantly clear he wanted nothing to do with us."

"We only need him for a day, for just one job."

"He won't do it."

"Convince him."

"I'm not sure I can."

"Lie if you have to," said Nemo, "Tell him we're trying to free Priest. Tell him Mona and Jenny were caught and this is the only way to help them, but not Lucy, we'll need her on this. Do whatever it takes. Think you can manage that?"

* * *

"Alright." Said the guard with a smirk as he walked into the guards room at twelve noon, he picked up a baseball bat and headed for the electronic switchboard.

"Time to give F-3044 his daily _exercise_."

"It's not." Said the warden as he read his newspaper, "Doctor Szell gave orders not to harm the prisoner."

"The hell he did."

"The call came this morning. He also asked that he not be drugged, they want him as lucid as possible."

"You gotta be shitting me, the hell for?"

"They're bringing in someone to try and break him."

"What's the use, he's been beat up, cut up, burned, we even clamped jumper cables to his balls and connected it to a car battery. He's not talkin'."

"Well in that case why do you want to beat him up so bad?"

"'Cause It's one hell of way to work off some pent up aggression. Besides, I don't like him. It's the way he looks at us, like you're wearing a chump jacket. Shit, don't you, Klinger?"

"Not especially." Said Klinger as he put down the newspaper.

**---------------------------------**

The numerous locks to the cell's door slid open. Priest looked up, waiting to see the door open and half a dozen guards walk in with truncheons, rubber hoses or whatever instruments that the guards often used to try and break him. To his surprise, it was a single guard, the warden who'd taken part in his beatings only once or twice over the three months had been where he was.

"Just you, old man?" asked Priest with a contemptuous smirk, "Did the girls get shy all of a sudden?"

"I'm Ed Klinger." Said Klinger calmly, standing by the door he'd closed, "I'm the Warden here."

"Well, bully for you."

"I'm not sure you remember me, but I'd been here in this cell a two or three times, giving you your exercise with the others. The others…. They can't get enough of you, you're the best thing that ever happened to them. As you understand, they have to restrain themselves with regular captives, but not with you. The last prisoner we had who could take as much punishment as you was a mutant called Creed Eight years ago.

"Anyway, they get off on it, and I'm not too averse to it myself. The thing is, the first time I was here, I had this nagging suspicion I'd seen you before. It's not the first time I ever had Dejavu, but by the third I decided I didn't really need to be here.

"Then something odd happened a couple of weeks back. I was staying with my kid for the weekend. I was helping her put together a bunch of old photos into albums. One was of all kinds of pictures of my old man, god rest his soul. I was trying my best to arrange them by date, when I come across this one.

Klinger took an old, yellowed photograph out of his shirt pocket and held it out with an outstretched arm.

"You'll excuse me if I don't come closer to you, Lieutenant Priest. I figure you can see it from over there. In case you don't, it's a picture of a Khe Sanh army unit, the writing on the back reads, 'Sam Loomis, Red Forman, Maxwell Klinger…. And Jude Priest'. Maxwell Klinger was my father."

Priest wasn't looking at the picture, choosing to stare into the warden's eyes instead, and did not seem to be concerned with what he said.

"On every thanksgiving, for thirty-four years, my dad would tell me, my brothers and my cousins about how he and his buddies fell to a North Korean Army unit's ambush, and were rescued at the eleventh hour by a fearless Lieutenant and his 50-cal." Klinger said and placed the photograph in his shirt pocket, "I thought you'd be taller."

"I'm not going to apologize for what we have and will continue to do to you, and I'm not going to be eaten up with guilt over it, either. I'm a realist, I served in the marines and did bad things to normal folks so that others may live and freedom my reign. I know what we do here is evil, but it is a necessary evil. I believe in the league and what it strives for. You and your terrorist cronies may try to sabotage that, but that doesn't change the fact that my father, and by extension myself, my brothers, my kids and grandkids all owe you our very existence. So….. Thank you.

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but they're brining in someone to extract information from you. It's not going to be like Szell or any of the other interrogators that questioned you. They're brining in a mind reader. A psychic. The game is over, in a few hours all your secrets will be at Director Josephine's disposal, and by tomorrow all your buddies will be in cages or in body-bags.

"I'm imploring you, as someone who genuinely wants you see you walk away from this place; talk, tell them what they want. They might just let you go. Don't think this is just a windup, I've seen other prisoners released in exchange of information. So why don't you play ball. You do want to live, don't you? See the world?"

"I've seen it already." Said Priest blankly.

Klinger didn't say anything and just opened the door and prepared to step out.

"Max Klinger was a good man, a funny man. I remember he used to pull the craziest shit, hoping he'd get a section 8 and ticket back to Ohio" Said Priest, "How did he go?"

"I'm going to keep my eye on the screen. If, and I realize how futile this all is, you change you mind, just holler."

The door slammed hut with a clang, the bolts and locks slid into place, leaving Priest locked in again.

* * *

Nemo straightened where he stood as he saw the old green Lincoln continental came coasting down a ramp and onto the underpass, driving up slowly till it came to a stop a few feet away from his car.

The captain took a couple of deep breaths as the man in two men got out of the backseat, they were of heavy set, each with a noticeable bulge where a gun holster would hang. The bodyguards weren't Nemo's concern, but the third man to step out. The man in the passenger seat got out with some difficulty, using a cane with a curved handle for balance, he was tall and gangly, his hair was wild ginger, and he wore a bright green jacket over a black shirt and a green tie.

"'You Nemo?" asked the mystery man as he walked with the limp, the bodyguards stayed close, while the driver remained behind the wheel with the engine running.

"Yes. Are you Nygma?"

"Yeah. Did you come alone?"

"As you can see." Said Nemo.

"That's a dangerous thing to do in Gotham, haven't you heard?"

"I have."

"Well then, shall we get down to business?"

"Of course." Said Nemo, taking a suitcase from behind the pillar against which he leaned and then handing it to one of the bodyguards, who unlocked it on the head of his car. He quickly started counting the bundles of money that were revealed to him.

"Is it all there?"

"Do you need to ask?"

"Heh. If you only knew." Said Nygma as he snapped his fingers, the other bodyguard went to the trunk and opened it, retrieving a silver briefcase that he handed to Nygma who held it close until the first bodyguard was done and declared that the money was complete. Nygma handed over the briefcase. Nemo placed it on the ground and opened it, smiling with glee as he gazed upon the contents.

"How did you manage to steal this from Wayne Enterprises?"

"They said it was impossible to steal." Said Nygma, "So I stole it. Do you mind telling me what do you plan on doing with it?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?" asked Nemo as he closed the briefcase and picked it up.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Said Nygma as he limped back into his car, "This was fun. Let's do it again."

The green car drove away. Nemo walked in the opposite direction, heading toward concrete steps that would lead him to the street above.

* * *

**Next Chapter**

Restrained and unprotected while the recesses of his conscious are penetrated, Priest's journey with the opposition comes to a point. While a team of opposition operatives convenes in Rome to perpetrate a masterful assassination.


	60. The Invisible War, Part 4

**Now**

_The Volcano_

By The Light of The Moon, I'm Comin' Home…"

The men on the dock went to and fro, lugging equipment, ordnance and supplies, preparing for an excursion that would take them nearly half-way around the world. Of this excursion they knew not what to expect, their orders had come in last night, -or rather, before many of them had decided to go to sleep, as time lost meaning in this place, below the sea, where they'd not seen sunlight or sky for days- that they were to embark on their greatest voyage yet, to Mongolia. They were given an option to step down or remain, and the crewmen, recognizing the prospect of adventure, chose the second, with very few exceptions.

" Howlin' All The Way, I'm Comin' Home…"

There were dozens and dozens of them, belonging to two separate crew. One formed predominantly from seamen who had once served in the Eastern Bloc navies, led by the battle-hardened naval Captain Ramius, while the other was composed to men who had been drifting through life when their captain found them; petty criminals, smugglers, deserting officers, idealists, exiles and men without countries. Their leader was a man of infamy and enigma. He was, depending on who you asked; a freedom fighter, a terrorist, a pioneer, a genius, an egomaniac, a champion of mankind, one of the last, if that.

He stood watching as his second mate Bill Shears drove a forklift loaded with crates of food into his Yellow Submarine, a duplicate of his Nautilus, one of a handful built under duress by German engineers kidnapped by a nemesis, all over a century ago. Salvaged, repaired and christened fifty years ago, sinced then upgraded with new bought, stolen or invented technology.

"On My Hands and Knees, I'm Comin' Home.

I Know When I've Been Beat, Yea, I'm Comin' Home…"

Nemo turned around to look at a young workman mopping the floor, he was thin, pale, and had messy brown hair, and could not have been a day over twenty-two.

"Young man? "

"By The Skin of My Teeth, I'm Com-… Huh?"

"I said would mind stopping your singing. "

"Sorry, Captain." apologized the workman sheepishly, "Didn't see you there, sir."

"It's fine… I was just trying to clear my head."

"Sorry.."

Nemo went back to watching the men on the dock, their paice had slowed, indicating that the were nearly done.

"What's your name, son?" Said Nemo, feeling that he might have offended the young man.

"Jake. I mean Jacob, but, well, everybody calls me Jake. So, uh, that's Jacob Grey."

"Are you mine or Captain Ramius'?"

"Yours, sir. I joined up a couple of months back, out of Mexico. Mister Shears picked me up."

"I see. So are you excited about going to Mongolia?"

"I might be, if I was. Mr. Shears said that I don't have the days, yet."

"Oh, well tell me, Jake, where are you from?"

"The states. Seattle."

"I meant your family, where does he hail from?"

"Funny you should mention that, he came from England, sometime in the fifties."

"What did he do?"

"He was in the Navy."

"Really?"

"Yep. Captain Daniel Grey, United States Navy."

"Right. Well, carry on, and I'm sorry you didn't get to come along."

"It's okay. " Said Jake with a smile, "Hey, maybe next time, huh?"

"Yes. Next time. Of course." Nemo said with a nod and a kind smile and walked away, heading toward the Yellow Submarine's gangplank, joined on his way by Naif al-Sheikh.

"I couldn't help hearing." al-Sheikh said, "You oddly seemed too interested in the boy."

"What if I told you that I'd saved that boy's great grandfather's life, a hundred and five years ago?"

"For some reason, I'm not too surprised. "

"Makes me think about how far I've come, or moved, rather. How long this cold war has lasted. Time to end it, once and for all."

"How IS it that you've moved so far? How exactly have you remained at your current age for a hundred year?"

"A story for another time, perhaps. Assuming we make it back."

"I never endevor anywhere with a mindset like that. I believe our plan is a solid plan, and our ace in a hole is something that will aid us greatly. If and when we succed, pivotal as our victory will be, there'll be lots of work to do. We will need to live through this."

"I suppose we do." said Nemo as he reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out three sealed envelopes, "But just in case, if I don't make it, please do pass these letters."

Naif looked at the names on the envelopes.

"Sax, Priest, and Collier.... I hesitate to point out that at lease one of these probably won't make it to their intended recipient."

"Priest was captured Eighty-Five days ago, his exectuion won't be until five more days. Don't count him out, I'd learned that lesson the hard way. If you do meet him again, he can tell you the story of my immoirtality."

"Alright."

"See you in Mongolia."

"What?" said al-Sheikh as he and Nemo stopped, at equal distances from the Red October and the Yellow Submarine, "No rousing speach?"

"'Once more unto the brach,' and all that? No, the men know what to expect, better to just get on with the voyage. Be seeing you."

**

* * *

**_Rome, Italy_

"Five days." Said O'Brien, "After that, war's over or not, I'm getting back to Gotham."

Lucy and Shaun exchanged a silent look following their partner's remark. The three were seated around a wooden table in a hotel inn room, waiting for the fourth man.

"So did anyone find out what happened to Sayid?"

"According to Nemo he was spotted in Los Angeles a week after he left us." Said Shaun, "Someone recognized him from when he was one of those, what did they call them, the Oceanic Six. Anyway, he was being escorted to Guam by some sort of federal agent."

"Escorted? Why, what did he do?"

"Don't know. The airplane disappeared."

"What about Mona?"

A door at the end of the room opened with a creek, Robert Barnes walked in, two dossiers under his arm, looking older than he actually was, to a greater degree than he did before, he walked over to the table, speaking with his gravely voice,

"Good afternoon. Excuse me, I couldn't help but overhear you talking from the other room. O'Brien, this should just take around five days' time, if it takes any more time, I'm afraid you'll just have to man up and like it.

"I don't care what happened that ended you so-called minutemen, but you're all here now and I expect nothing more but total commitment. I'm not sure what kind of ship Mona Sax ran, but you can be sure it'll be different under me. I'm not a corporate hired-gun; I have over thirty years of experience in espionage and black ops. You'll do precisely as I say or so god help you. Got questions? I'll answer them. Got suggestions? If I'm in a good mood, I'll pretend like I give a shit, but don't get your hopes up."

None of the three expressed any thing in reaction to Barnes unprecedented display of impatient rudeness. They just listened, bewildered.

"The four of us are here for a specific assignment; to kill these two sons of bitches."

Barnes tossed the dossiers onto the table, allowing their loose content to spill out.

"Here, get a good look at Willem Robur and Peter Gruber, the directors of the Paris and Berlin branches of the League, respectively. This is them. We're going to kill them, no matter what it takes to do that."

Barnes took a pause to pour a glass of whisky and the continued, holding the glass close to his lips.

"The League's at Condition Red. Meaning, every branch director stays in his own Branch at all times. They don't even go home for the night. That, if you haven't noticed, makes assassinating them hard. Luckily, we know just how to light the fire that'll lure them out.

"I'm dying. Cancer. Don't look at me like you're sorry. I'm fifty-three years old, an age the three of you are too clumsy and naïve to reach. My family have believe me dead for four years, before that I was almost killed by my employers for developing a conscience. My efforts with this faction have largely brought me grief and pain; my successes were far apart and too bitter to be appreciated. All I want is to this one thing right, after that I can go to hell with a smile on my face."

_

* * *

__Gotham City_

Klinger and Szell stood looking at the CCTV screen that displayed the inside of Priest's cell. A few feet away from where Priest sat chained to his seat, a folding chair was placed, upon which sat a young man of twenty.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question, Doctor?"

"Go ahead."

"If what Priest has is so valuable, why didn't you use a psychic a long time ago?"

"If it were only that simple, Mr. Klinger. I'm afraid that psychic is a little different than most people think, it's nothing but a catch-all term referring to a wide range of abilities, mind-reading is one form of which, a very, very rare form. Xavier is the only one we have who can forcefully extract thoughts out of a given subject's mind; an amazing specimen, he is, a clone of a powerful mutant.

"Director Josephine wants this prisoner's presence here to remain a secret, and any use of Xavier would have attracted attention from the other departments. We had to bid our time with this."

"Okay, so now what do you do?"

"Now we finally break Priest." Said Szell as he pressed a button on a microphone attached to his lapel.

"Start by the benchmark questions; ask about his name and age."

"What's your name, and how old are you?" asked Xavier as he sat inside Priest's cell, his voice warm and hypnotic, and continued even though Priest had said nothing, "His name is Judas, and he is Three-Hundred and Thirty years old."

"Excellent, Xavier." Said Szell, and then said addressing Klinger, "This is information we already knew, naturally, but it helps make his mind easier to penetrate."

"He… He hates you, Doctor Szell. With every fiber of his being."

"Never mind him, Xavier." Said Szell, "Ask him where the opposition's secret base is."

"Where is your group's secret base located?" asked Xavier, "It's at the base of an inert volcano. He does not know on which island, or where this island is situated. And… Oh …"

"Yes? Xavier, what's gotten into you?"

"What animal… The things he'd do, Doctor Szell, if he ever got released… You must have him killed!"

"Xavier, calm down." Spoke Szell, as reassuringly as he was capable of sounding, "You still have a job to do."

"No!" cried Xavier, "You shouldn't have made her choose like that! It would have been better if you'd just killed them yourself! And him, the one in Alexandria! He'd changed, he'd left it all behind, but you let the child watch as you did it!"

"What in hell is going on?" asked Klinger.

"I don't know." Said Szell.

"YOU MONSTER!" cried Xavier in furious anger, standing up and looking into Priest's eyes, "YOU'RE A THING OF PURE EVIL! YOU'RE THE EXCREMENT OF HUMAN FAILURE!"

"Get out of my head, you freak!" Priest hissed, jerking at his restraints to no avail.

"That's it; we have to get him out of there." Said Klinger, slamming his hand down on a button on the control board, before rushing out and heading down the corridor.

"HOW COULD…" said Xavier and fell silent, and Szell's heart started racing.

"…No." mumbled Xavier.

"OUT!"

"Take it back." Xavier pleaded, staggering back until his back reached the wall, "You've got to take it back…. Please."

The door clanked open behind Xavier as tears began to well up in his eyes.

"The abyss… oh… merciful lord…"

The door swung open, and two guards entered, wasting no time to head for the panicking psychic.

"Finally! You took your goddamn time, dickwipes." Priest mumbled.

"Shut it, Priest."

"No!" said Xavier, pushing one guard away, pulling his sidearm out of its holster as he did so.

"It's too la-." Said Xavier, putting the gun to his temple and pulling the trigger.

The gunshot blared through the concrete cell. Klinger stopped to look in shock at Xavier's corpse that lay at his feet, next to the twitching guard whose jaw as shattered by the same bullet that killed Xavier upon its exit.

"Jesus Christ!" said the guard whose gun rested in Xavier's hand, "I.-I.."

"You allowed a civilian to seize your weapon." Said Klinger, "Now go get a medic or I'll make you eat it. NOW!"

The guard rushed out while Szell stepped in. The old man surveyed the macabre and unforeseeable turn of events that had taken place, and for the first time in years felt fear in its purest.

"Klinger, Szell," Priest said, not the least bit phased with what had just transpired, "I'm not sure what exactly just happened, but I think the joke's on you."

* * *

**Next Chapter**

Barnes and co spring into action, Mona returns, and Priest and Szell's battle of egos comes to a turning point when the White Angel of Auschwitz makes a desperate attempt to break Priest with just four days to extract useful information out of him.

R&R


	61. The Invisible War, Part 5

**Now**

_Gotham City_

Klinger and Szell stood once again observing the interior of Priest's cell. Priest was on the floor, most of his restraints removed save for his straitjacket, drugged, while another man stood in wait nearby, wearing a suit that had seen better bays and an odd, unnerving mask.

"The drugs should be wearing off by now; Priest'll be quite lucid in a couple of minutes."

"I don't like this." Said Klinger.

"I don't like it either, but I'm afraid this is our last resort."

"There's a time to cut losses and quit."

"That's not an option, Mr. Klinger. This man has murdered a dozen important officials including Director Josephine's personal aid, not to mention dozens of guards and security personnel. And let's not forget how he'd contaminated Xavier's psyche with his own psychosis, driving our best psychic, an irreplaceable asset, to suicide."

"Something you should have considered before you went ahead with it, Doctor."

"I realize that, and I'm not trying to disavow responsibility, but it happened on your watch. Like it or not, that puts our careers and lives in jeopardy, not unless we have something to show for it."

***************

The pounding headache subsided, and Priest was able to open his eyes. It a moment or two for the blurs to gain shape and substance. He felt that same feeling in his gut that he'd felt every time he woke up from these stupors, dread, panic and loathing mixed in with the festering, anemic blood they fed him so he wouldn't starve to death.

As he tried to right himself up, he hadn't yet regained the clarity of mind to wonder why the guards were not in there with him, as they always were, nor to notice the man in the cell.

He muttered a Gaelic curse as he got to his knees, and only then did he see the man.

"Huh? This is new."

Priest struggled to get to his feet. He then stood leaning against a wall, staring at the mask the man wore, made of different rags of burlap, stitched together with thick back thread, covering every inch of his face save for the man's beady, blue, sinister eyes that looked back at him from the center of two dark, abyss-like patches.

"I'd normally make a snide remark about how I though that Halloween had already passed, but with how desperate Doc Szell is getting, I simply haven't the heart. So whatever amateurish trick you're suppose to present, by all means, have-"

The man in the burlap mask raised his hand. In the split second before what happened next, Priest noticed the cylinder attached to the underside of the man's wrist inside his jacket, and the little lever in his palm. The man pulled the lever, resulting in a faint metallic click and a burst of an aerosol cloud shooting forth, right into Priest's eyes.

Priest yelped as he felt sudden, instantaneous, primal panic and tripped, slumping onto his back with a thud.

His vision went blurry again, clarity twisting around the approached figure of the man in the burlap mask, towering over him, exaggerated, jagged claws springing forth from the tips of his finger, the mask disintegrating with every step he took, maggots leaking from every crumbling path and dropping down his chest, slowly revealing a bald, pale head, eyes of granite and a beard that covered his chest, but could not hide his cruel, fang-filled mouth.

"Abraxas…" whispered Priest as sharp pain filled his chest, and that cold, lifeless lump of meat convulsed.

****************

Klinger couldn't help but feel a modicum of horror as he watched Szell's mouth spread into a grimly satisfied grimace.

"Fascinating." Said Szell, his eyes scanning the monitor before him, reading Priest's vitals and watching him wriggle, "Doctor Crane's toxin works on him as well as it did on any human. He's… My word…"

"Who's Abraxas?" asked Klinger.

"I don't know, but whoever it is, Priest must be hallucinating that he's right there with him, and he's scared of him more than anything, enough to actually cause a faint heartbeat."

"Now what?"

"We just wait. In a few hours, all his hubris and bravado will be stripped away."

* * *

"A… Force-field generator?" said Josephine as she turned away from the wall-high window, "Really?"

"That's what MI6 relayed to us." Said Diana.

"I assume Major Boothroyd has divulged the specifics of this device?"

"He has. I'm not a scientist, so perhaps it's better if you read the reports for yourself. However, a few pertinent details are that it utilizes a core made of pure anti-matter. The likes of what was stolen from the New York branch last year."

"Hm. I remember that. What else?"

"It'll only function properly under water, which suggests that they're arming their submarines with them, or perhaps only Nemo's 'Menhaden', the Yellow Submarine."

"What are its limitations?"

"Boothroyd says that when he was testing it, he created a perfectly spherical force field fifteen feet in diameter that could withstand anything short of a nuclear blast. But the field's effectiveness decreases proportionately with the size of it, and exponentially the more oval it becomes."

"I see. So how powerful would it be if shaped to surround a submarine?"

"Boothroyd said it would take two or three Mark 48 torpedoes, maybe four."

"Alright. Have N.I.D. initiate protocol-29. Did we get the plans for this device?"

"Unfortunately not. Part of Boothroyd and Nemo's arrangement was that the documentation would remain with Nemo."

"What about our agent? His assistant?"

"Well, he claims to have made copies, but then promptly lost them."

"Lost them."

"Yes. Months ago."

"Oh, god."

"What do you want to get done about them, madam director?"

"Mi6 can have Boothroyd. We've got younger, keener minds at work. Have our agent, whatshisface…"

"Igor Algernon."

"Have Igor Algernon transferred somewhere very dull and thinly populated. Preferably very cold."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Any news from Szell?"

"He called hours ago, actually. Said he was confident he was about to deliver results."

"He's been saying that since he took over." Said Josephine, "The white-headed bastard is rapidly beginning to outlive his usefulness."

* * *

_New York City_

The heavyset Jamaican issued a loud yawn as got up from his comfortable armchair after the fifth pound on the door; he grumbled as he picked up the Uzi and walked to the iron door at the end of the room. He grew grumpy, feeling the cold October weather radiate through the door, and made his mind to dismiss whatever caller it was harshly.

He slid the cover of the peep hole aside and looked out to see a woman of her early thirties, black haired and fair skinned, wrapped in a black coat.

"You have any idea what time it is, sista?" he said gruffly, speaking with a thick Jamaican accent.

"It's three-thirty."

"It's three-thirt AY-EM! Get the fock away from 'ere."

"You know what, I don't care what time it is. In Lincoln in?"

"Lincoln who? You got da rang place, now let me see your ass shakin' away."

"Very funny. Open the door, I want to see DeNeuf. I need some hardware, and I have the cash for it. Unless you'd prefer I'd take my business to the Russians, I'm sure he won't mind. I wouldn't imagine he's do something drastic, like making a voodoo doll out of your hide."

The Jamaican said nothing for a moment, before saying, "Wait 'ere.", retreating in and closing the panel. He returned less than a minute later, and opened the door for her without saying a word.

She walked in, like someone who had been to the place before, heading into the adjacent hall while the guard returned to his armchair. A few men lounged about the place, eying her like she was a prey that had stumbled into a den of predators, but she was undeterred, making her away under the metal hooks that hung from the rafters, a remnant from before the place was slaughterhouse.

The leader of the house sat behind a desk at the end of the hall, wearing an elegant suit, flanked by a number of odd statues and a heavy wooden cross wrapped in chains.

"How's it going, Lincoln?" said the woman as she stood before his desk.

"Mona Sax." Said the Jamaican crime lord, "It's been too long."

"Has it?"

"Six years. I'd heard you been doing life in prisan. I also heard you blew the burg last year. My compliments. So I take it you're back in business in this city? Unwise move, woman."

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm not setting up shop here permanently."

"In town for a job? Big contract?"

"Massive."

"Families? Or perhaps Yakuzas?"

"No, it's no one you'd know. No one you'll even read about in the paper."

"What do ya need?"

"45's, two of them. A Smith and Wesson forty-o-six, an Ingram, a John Woo silenced. And do you have any sawn-offs?"

"Sawn-offs are out." Said Lincoln, "But everting else is doable."

"I'll also need a sniper rifle, Dragunov or anything that'll fit a seven-sixty-two Russian."

"Doable. That's a lot of killing yer planning on. Fifteen grand of killing. Do ya have fifteen grand?"

Mona reached slowly into her coat and pulled out a thick manila envelope that she tossed at Lincoln's desk. The crime lord casually reached for it, peaked in and examined the contents.

"There's a little extra, for you to get me everything I need right now."

"Huh. Massive, you said."

"Gargantuan."

* * *

_Rome_

"Alright." Said Barnes, sitting behind the wheel as the car drove down the bust streets of the Italian capital, "The plan, Collier, is to kill Robur and Gruber. How do we kill Robur and Gruber, since they don't eave their impenetrable strongholds, you ask? Well, good question, Collier. And I do have the answer; can you guess what it is?"

"Umm…." Shaun muttered, then paused to think, "We… Find a way to make their strongholds penetrable?"

"Jesus…Don't quit your day job, Collier. No, the answer is… We get them to _leave_ their impenetrable strongholds."

"And how do we do that?"

"Simple. Aside from the seven branches of the League in Gotham, New York and so on, there's a league station in every country, some even have two. These stations mostly spy on the intelligence services of whatever country they're in, that's what the league does, that's how they maintain a competitive edge, they spy on other spies."

"They watch the watchmen, then?"

"After a fashion. Some of these stations are large enough that, especially considering that we do live in the information edge, have the ability to pick up an entire other branches workload; a back-up branch. So for example, if the Tokyo branch was attack or compromised, and assuming the Tokyo director was still alive, their operations would resume in the well equipped and nearby Russian station."

"So I guess that the Rome station is the backup station to either the German or French branches?"

"No, but close enough. Very close. The Italian station is the backup to BOTH the Paris and Berlin branches."

"Right. I still don't see how any of that helps us."

"WELL! Given enough time, you would eventually wonder what would happen in the eventuality that the Rome station was compromised while the integrity of the other branches was still maintained."

"They'd have their next best nearby station pick up the slack?"

"Not a bad guess, but wrong."

* * *

_Gotham City_

"Stay here." said Klinger to Szell, picking up his gun and leaving the observation room, then walking in through the door directly to the left. Some of his men were already inside. Two were aiming their guns at Dr. Crane, the man in the burlap mask, while three others were fixed on Priest.

"He's dead." said Crane, "Now let me go..."

"How do you know he's dead?" answered Klinger.

"I checked his vitals right after he passed out. He has a general lack of heartbeat, now unless you don't want the same thing to ha-"

"We've all been inoculated against your fear toxin, Scarecrow. So try anything, and you can see if you're really afraid to die."

Klinger went to where Priest lay on the floor, lying face down in his straitjacket.

"If he moves, shoot him in the head. It doesn't matter if you have to shoot me in the process."

Klinger pulled on Priest's shoulder so that he'd be facing up. He then checked Priest for signs of life the only way he could to a man with naturally no breath or heartbeat, by forcing his eyes open with his fingers and looking at his pupils. They were completely dilated.

"He's not dead, Warden."

Szell stood in the doorway, wearing an expression of bewilderment.

"If he were dead, he wouldn't be there as more than a mound of dirt and ashen shards of bone."

"Well then what's going on?"

"I assume you've found his eyes to be extremely dilated. I've just checked hid EEG readings, they're consistent with those of a patient suffering total necrosis of his cerebral neurons."

"He's brain dead?"

"Yes." said Szell, "Whatever we may have tried to seize from his mind, to redeem ourselves, is irrevocably gone."

* * *

**Next Chapter**

Raimus, Nemo and Al-Sheikh reach Mongolia.

In Rome, the first part of Barnes' plan is set in motion.


End file.
